


Double Date with Danger

by PastyPirate



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Archie is bait, Assassin in training!Archie, Assassin!Jughead, Betty is a mystery, Capo!Betty, Cheryl actually kills people with her bow and arrow, Eventual Smut, Excessive use of italics, F/M, Falice if you squint, Fighting As Foreplay, Fluff and Smut, Hand to Hand Combat, Jughead is very proud of his fighting and research skills, Mob Princess!Veronica, Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU kinda, Really quick Kink Negotiation, References to murdering, Serpents are a secret society of Hitmen, Serpents kill people for the greater good, Tags will be updated as I go along, Veronica is baited, almost lovers to enemies to lovers, and for the money, for the aesthetic, spoilers in the tags, vigilantes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-02 02:02:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 36,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16296170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastyPirate/pseuds/PastyPirate
Summary: Jughead's had harder missions than “get to know the cute blonde who hangs out with your mark.”Yet somehow; this mission is giving him all the trouble.In which the Serpents are a secret society of assassins, Jughead is a top ranking killer, Archie is in training, Veronica is a powerhouse, and Betty is just your All American Girl Next Door…





	1. Chapter 1

Archie convinced Jughead to live in East Village. Which was quite a feat in Jughead’s books as East Village is a corporate sell out of its once vibrant self. But the company is paying their rent and they might as well carry out juvenile Archie’s fantasy while they're stationed in Manhattan, however long this particular brand of torture is slated to last. 

Jughead leaves his leather coat behind most days, he no longer ties his identity to the skin of a dead cow. He could be wearing rags from a gutter or the finest suit Gucci has to offer but he's still a Serpent underneath. 

The flannel however, is a little harder to leave behind. 

He knows it makes him stick out in the East Side bar. He's sitting between Archie, who looks like he walked out of a GQ catalogue, and the FBI agent who looks like....well, an FBI agent.

“Have you thought more about the case?” Agent Adams asked, his fingers rimmed around a dewey glass of water. 

Jughead waited a second, and let the pause become pregnant as Archie cast a long pitiful look at Jughead. Adams’ papers all checked out, as did his background check and all the info Jughead got from him. The very same info that has Archie chomping at the bit to investigate and take on the actual mob. 

“Do I need to remind you that time is of the essence here?” 

Maybe it was Adams’ piss-poor attitude that had Jughead pausing. 

Archie’s eyes burned into the side of his face, urging him to take on the case. The enthusiasm was nothing new. Archie had a bit of problem with the chain of command, which was that as far as the Serpents went; Archie was the bottom of the chain. Hell, even Cheryl was higher than him. 

However, Jughead had his own chain of command to worry about. FP Jones said jump so Jughead said; 

“We’re taking it.”

________

“There she is, the most dangerous woman in New York,” Jughead said, jerking his chin towards Magnolia Bakery, at the dark haired girl who stepped up to the counter. She's, of course, more beautiful than any other girl he's ever seen in his life, second only to her companion who looks like she should be stepping onto the set of a Hitchcock film to be terrorized by his particular brand of awful.

“Doesn't Hiram have a wife we could go after?” Archie asked, folding his arms and tucking his hands into the creases between his impossibly large biceps and his pecs. 

“Hermione Lodge hasn't been seen in just as many years as Hiram lodge. The only member who is ever seen out in public is the one before us eating a carrot cake cupcake with her gal pal and trusted confidant, Betty Cooper.” The Serpents know him for his research skills, which is why it particularly irks that him all he knows is she eats vanilla cupcakes, she's friends with Veronica Lodge, and her name is Betty Cooper. Hell, he was the only one who could find dirt on Penny Peabody and get her excommunicated for good, but he can’t find anything on an All-American-Girl from Long Island?

“How'd you know they'd be here?” 

“Well Betty strongly dislikes social media, no Facebook, no insta, nothing, but Ronnie here loves herself some attention and charity. They're buying up a few hundred cupcakes to bring up to some kids at a school in Spanish Harlem. The very same kids that Lodge Charities are sponsoring through college.”

Jughead shoots a sidelong glance towards Archie who is nodding, retaining information as he does his best to learn. It's hard to imagine that Archie is still technically in training, it feels like they've been doing this together forever. But FP only let Archie into the fold a year ago, finally breaking under those puppy dog eyes. 

“The Lodges have a lot of charities–” 

“Not the Lodges, Archie, the distinction is important here. Lodge Charities is Veronica’s baby. Hiram donates just enough to get the tax breaks. It's Ronnie who is trying to get in good with the lord on high.” Jughead looks back at the woman in question, flicking her hair back as a tall deceptively strong man loaded an SUV with boxes of cupcakes. 

“How does she make her money?” Archie asked, and Jughead felt a sparkle of pride. His little protege is learning to ask all the right questions. 

“She runs all the legitimate aspects of Lodge industries. She's a powerhouse.” Jughead pushed off the wall and started walking. Archie kept in close step behind him, looking around. 

“So what's the plan?” Archie asked out of the corner of his mouth. Subtlety was another one of Archie’s weak points. 

“No offense Archie, but it's best if you don't know yet. Just talk to me about sports.” 

Archie took up the mission with grace as he lept into a lecture about the game the previous night. The very same game that Jughead had not watched as he’d been listening to a podcast about serial killers. 

Jughead led them across the street, ever-so-casually, as if Magnolia was their goal all along. The tall man (Andre, a Capo, Jughead is sure of it) was by the trunk still, and not a problem to worry about at that particular moment. The women were deep in conversation, Veronica gestured with her carrot cake cupcake as Betty held her vanilla cupcake just in front of her chest, nodding in agreement. Neither of them were paying attention to the swirling arm Veronica used for emphasis. 

It couldn't have gone better if Jughead directed it himself. 

He waited, using his knowledge of Archie’s body weight and grace, for the opportune moment to trip him just slightly. 

As if in slow motion Archie went flying, catching Veronica’s arm as he quickly met cement. His instincts kick in and he rolls, saving Veronica from the hard ground even as he grunted in pain. Jughead pretended shock, and hoped he lands his mark. Betty shoved her cupcake towards Jughead and he took it from her without thinking. Betty was bending down to help too quickly but Jughead’s plan was working anyways. 

Veronica still had that split second when she was on Archie’s chest. Their eyes deeply locked with a crushed cupcake between them. 

Success. 

“Ronnie! Are you ok?” Betty asked as she helped Veronica upright, hands clenched around Veronica’s arms.

“I am so sorry!” Archie sat up, and is looking up at Veronica from at just about crotch level which is a little less subtle than Jughead meant but he hadn't taken into account how big Archie was when he flung him at Veronica. “I don't know what happened!” 

“Dude, you gotta watch where you're going,” Jughead mentally made a note to apologize for the gaslighting later. He offered a hand to his best friend and tried to play the part of clumsy bro about the town. 

“Accidents happen, even to this season’s dresses,” Veronica said carefully, studying the bust of her dress that had a smear of cream cheese and the barest hint of orange frosting. 

“Aw man,” Archie said, looking at his own shirt, that got most of the cake component. 

_Take it off_ Jughead mentally pleaded as he added the statement to the list of “weird shit I've thought because of my job.” 

He didn't have to worry, or even mentally plead much. Archie never missed a chance to take his shirt off. There, in broad daylight and in front of one of the most famous bakeries in the Americas, Archie tugged off his shirt, rustling his red hair as he held up the shirt to survey the damage. 

Betty looked incredulous, if Jughead could read her thoughts he’d bet money it'd be something like _who the hell takes their shirt off to look at a cupcake smear?_

Veronica, on the other hand,is responding the same way their entire grade would respond every time Archie deigned to take his shirt off at practice. 

With a generous dose of interest. 

“I'm so sorry,” Archie said, damage inspected and holding his shirt, as if he suddenly able to commit himself to the conversation now that he’s sure he can get the stain out of his ten dollar Target t-shirt, “can you please let me buy you a cupcake to make it up to you?” 

“You're going to have to put your shirt back on for that,” Jughead said dryly, deciding that his own personality was the best one to go with in this scenario. Provided he didn’t mention the whole killing people for money thing. 

“It's fine,” Veronica’s eyes flit down his chest in unabashed lust, “I have extras, but you have to let me make it up to _you._ ” 

“I knocked you over, miss, uh, Ronnie was it?” Archie asked, glancing at Betty who still had a grip on Veronica’s arm. 

Jughead was bursting with pride. 

“Veronica Lodge, and this is Betty Cooper.” Veronica held out her hand and Archie took it, shaking it as slowly as he could get away with. 

“What a beautiful name,” Archie said without a trace of dishonesty in his voice. Genuine adoration all day. Clearly a honeypot gig was going to be right in Archie's wheelhouse. 

“I'm sorry, my space cadet friend here is Archie Andrews, I'm Jughead.” Jughead punctuated the introduction with a two fingered salute and a pat on Archie’s back. 

“Well Archie, I must buy you and Jughead a drink to make up for this unfortunate and embarrassing encounter.” Veronica said gracefully, and Jughead wanted to pat himself on the back instead of Archie. 

“There's nothing unfortunate about it,” Archie said with a dopey grin, before realizing that her expensive dress was smeared in frosting with a panicked flick of his eyes, “I mean– it's unfortunate that your dress–” 

“A dress is a small sacrifice to make your acquaintance.” 

Jughead locked eyes with Betty, and tried to share a long suffering glance just as he would if Toni or Sweet Pea was here. It worked. She half-hid her smile behind Veronica. 

It took them a few moments to agree on a place to meet, a fountain near a bar that Jughead couldn't afford if he was the starving writer he just told Veronica Lodge he was. But Veronica flashed her pearly whites and slid into her SUV, telling them not to worry about it as Betty sent them one last apologetic glance. It was one Jughead recognized. _Sorry my lovely friend is a little too lovely sometimes._

Jughead led Archie away, his hand strategically covered Archie’s Serpent tattoo on his back as another waved back. The tattoo always made Archie seem way more like a bad boy than he actually was. Archie was as goody-two-shoes as assassins got, even amongst a crowd of do-gooders like the Serpents. 

“Dude you could've warned me you were going to trip me,” Archie said when they were a block away, pulling his shirt that he just de-cupcaked back on. 

“You needed to be surprised,” Jughead said honestly. Archie’s biggest flaw was that he still got too into his head from time to time. “Good thinking on taking off your shirt though.”

“Wait, that was part of it?” 

Jughead stopped walking to shoot a glare at Archie, “seriously?”

“I had cupcake on my shirt!”

________

The plan is simple. Infiltrate.

The FBI wanted Hiram alive, which meant that they had to find out where he's hiding, extract him, and deliver him to Adams without any of the capos catching on and killing Archie and Jughead. 

The only problem is that Archie seems to really like Veronica. 

A lot. 

Archie spent most of the afternoon after initial contact talking about Veronica, and the brief interaction they both witnessed, and asking a bevy of questions. Jughead was used to keeping a close eye on Archie around beautiful women though. His chivalry often got the best of him. 

“Do you see any problems with this mission?” FP asked. Jughead opened his mouth to respond. “Don't say Archie.” 

Jughead let his mouth close. 

“Dig deep boy, you're prepared for most Archie situations.” 

Which is unfortunately true. Jughead is fairly certain that even after Archie completes his training they’ll be partners, because Jughead gets Archie on a level that only a lifelong friend can get someone. 

He couldn’t bring up how annoying he found Agent Adams again or his father would be the one getting annoyed. He tried to find another thing, another splinter in his paw. 

“The friend–” a blond beauty, a shared look of disbelief, “–she's an unknown.” 

“Well then get to know her,” FP said, as if it was that simple. _Crack her open like a book Jug, read all of her innermost thoughts Jug._

But FP said jump and Jughead said;

“Okay Dad.”

_____ 

He's had harder missions than “get to know the cute blonde who hangs out with your mark.”

For example; The Texas Child Ring. A man was kidnapping children off the streets of Houston to bring them to a brothel in the middle of Texas, far from where any cell towers gave service or gas stations twinkled in the night. His place was built like a pedo-friendly fortress with enough guns to take down a small country. Jughead had to slip in the middle of the night, get in, get the kids out, wipe the guy out, and do it all before the sun came up or a single one of the johns woke up in their beds. He’d been seventeen at the time, with distinct orders not to kill any of the johns. 

That had been hard. 

This, this was just walking in central park on a lovely day. 

Jughead shoved his hands in his coat pockets as Betty matched his pace. Archie and Veronica were a few steps ahead of them, already halfway to running to town hall and hyphenating their name. 

Jughead cast a sidelong glance at Betty, and she cast one at him, rubbing her hands against the chill air. It was an unseasonably cold summer night, and Veronica built a twenty minute walk through the park into their plans, presumably to vet if Archie was worth investigating further. Betty wore a sheer shirt made of intricate lace over a tank top. He’d bet the money he got from the Texas job that it was from Veronica’s closet. Her sleeves were pulled down over her palms and he wondered if he should offer up his flannel, or his sherpa coat. 

When he was twenty one he’d spent a month living in a tent in Mongolia, just waiting for an American man who ran a non-profit that was a front for a drug ring. Drugs had been his grandfather’s downfall, and that one had been the hardest. Just him, the sheep, and the stark realization that addiction was a brutal mistress that would hold his family’s hand for the rest of his life. He'd been training to be a Viper, a sleeper agent who waited for the right moment. He’d made the death look like an accident, a steep fall on a cold night. He decided not to be a Viper. 

That had been difficult. 

“Are you cold?” Jughead pointed towards his coat and his flannel in turn, as if to say _take your pick_.

“No, no thank you, I’m fine,” Betty said, and silence lapsed again. 

The mob lost control of one of their own, and needed it handled with quickly, discreetly. The man was in San Francisco about to embark on a vendetta that would leave twenty dead. But Jughead got there first, all of twenty-three years old, and made sure twenty slept soundly in their bed. 

That had been a struggle. 

“So what do you do for fun?” Betty asked. 

This was torture.

“I …” Jughead couldn’t very well say _beat the shit out of my best friend_ now could he? The trick to lying was staying as close to the truth as possible, which meant he was going to have to get a little vulnerable. “I write.” 

“Oh, what do you write?” Betty asked. 

Cornered again. 

He could skirt close to the truth. He tried it in his head. 

_It’s about a boy who is raised to take over a deadly secret society of assassins posing as a run-of-the-mill biker gang, along with his rowdy friends er...Dry Potato and Gemma Gemstone. And how he accidentally lured his best friend Barchie Bandrews into the whole mess._

“I write crime fiction,” he said instead, nodding. 

“What’s your favorite story that you’ve written so far?” 

“Er,” Jughead tried to find an angle on a crime he committed that would make a good story, “a small town cop in Texas keeps finding men murdered with a single gunshot wound to the head. A sniper shot to be precise.” 

“What was the commonality between them all?” Betty asked, and Jughead did a quick double take. 

“What? You don’t think they’re innocent business men?” Jughead asked, aware that the corner of his mouth was lifting up. 

“No, of course not.” Betty nudged him, “I’ll still read it when you publish it, what is it?” 

Jughead can fondly remember the energy he had at seventeen. How he memorized their names and their faces. Their routes and their schedules. How he begged his father to give him _those_ jobs in _that_ part of Texas. Where all that stands between him, and his prey, is a M21 and a clear day. 

“They were all were part of pedophile ring, the mastermind had been dead for months but the killer was slowly picking off each one of the men who had participated.” 

“I’m definitely going to read that book.” 

“Just because we talked once?” Jughead asked.

“Of course not, because it sounds amazing.” Betty tapped her fingers to her head and gestured outwards, “I cannot stand it when people think they can get away with heinous crimes like that. Did the killer have strict orders to not kill them the first night but he just couldn’t resist going back and picking them off one by one?” 

_Yes_

“Strict orders? What makes you think he’s doing anything but preying on people that he knows he can get away with? Seedy pedos no one will miss?” Jughead shrugged, “I’m not done with it yet. The killer’s motives are still unclear to me.” 

And while the killer’s motives are very, _very_ clear to him (sobbing children on the side of the road, far from home and far from safety, slowly being lifted into a truck to be brought back into society. He’s only a few years older than the eldest. He can remember being that age) this conversation is revealing a lot about him, and not a whole lot about her. 

“What about you anyways? What do you do for fun?” 

“Um, read crime fiction, obviously.” Betty said with a smile, and he smiled back. 

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

___________

“So your best friend from high school says, come to college with me and you just go. Then she says, run my charity organization, and you just do it?” Jughead asked Betty as he leaned back in the booth. Supposedly it’s a double date, but for some reason the bar only had two tops and no four tops near each other. The group has solemnly agreed to split up. He trusted that Archie is suave enough to get from point A (Veronica thinking he’s cute) to point B (Veronica asking him to go back to Daddy’s mansion) without Jughead hovering over his every word and judging his every flirtatious move.

“When you put it like that it sounds like I had absolutely no say in the matter. I liked the sound of NYU, and then I wanted to run a non-profit, so why not one that I could shape from the ground up with a businesswoman I really respect?” Betty shrugged, tugging the sleeves of his flannel down as she leaned forward to rest her arms on the table. Noting her current situation, that of wearing his favorite flannel, that he’d insisted she’d take when they arrived, she offered him a smile. “I’m blessed.” 

“You really are.” Jughead said with a smile. “You’re just living the life.”

_____________

The night ends with Jughead saying a polite goodbye to Betty, only to turn around and see Archie making out with Veronica against the wall.

“Um, dude.” Jughead said, going against his every instinct to cockblock his best friend. The timing isn’t right. There’s too much in the air as of yet. 

“Right,” Archie said, as he pulled away from Veronica, “Right, thanks for the drink…” 

Archie and Jughead share a long look. As if they’re trying to agree on something with their eyes. If they were normal friends, it’d be something like _hey should we invite these girls to this party we’re having tomorrow?_ but they planned this at the beginning of the day, and that makes Jughead feel a little guilty. 

“So, we were talking earlier, and we, um” Archie tried to get out, turning up the adorably befuddled look to ten. 

“Dinner tomorrow night?” Jughead asked quickly, as if he was saving his friend and it wasn’t orchestrated down to the moment. 

“Yes,” Betty said quickly, causing Jughead’s heart to flutter in a way that is not at all job sanctioned. He nearly missed Veronica’s flash of a smile and a quick nod. 

“We’ll catch you tomorrow, then. Look out for a text from us, and allow me to save my friend before he embarasses himself.” Jughead said, rushing them away from the uncertainty that he very nearly messed up.

__________

While they talked all night, for nearly five hours, he still considers Betty an unknown quantity. There’s a shield behind her eyes, as if she’s got something locked away that he can’t poke out. He’s gotten the most tight-lipped perps to talk, and all she gave him was a stunning smile. He feels somehow duped.

“We gotta keep this job light,” Jughead said as Archie does pull ups on their bathroom frame. Jughead’s phone is in his hands and his fingers are flying across it, pulling up whatever info he can find. Which is nothing. 

“I know,” Archie said, with no difficulty as he tugged himself up for the sixtieth time. 

“You can’t let yourself fall in love with this girl,” Jughead said, looking up and past Archie, into their toothpaste-stained mirror. 

“I won’t, eyes on the prize. Hiram Lodge is a bad bad man.” Archie had begun to sweat as Jughead stands up, the info he needs on his phone. 

“Right, and we’re going to make the world a better place.” He said as a parting shot, closing his bedroom door behind him as he dialed the number. 

The tone rang once, Jughead opened up his computer and looked at the tab that held Elizabeth Cooper’s birth certificate, which frustratingly told him nothing about her secrets, only that she was born in Long Island to an Alice Cooper and a Hal Cooper. The tone rang twice. 

“Hello, New York University Directory,” came a cheerful voice down the line. 

“Hi, I’m writing about impressive alumni in the non-profit space, and I have a question about one of your students, Betty Cooper?” 

There weren’t any secrets Jughead Jones couldn’t find.

___________

For all accounts and purposes, Elizabeth Cooper is a perfectly nice girl, who went to a perfectly nice high school and went to a perfectly nice college. Her mother and father ran the newspaper of a small town and had absolutely no marks on their record. Her brother, which he did feel a little bad at uncovering, was a bit of a fuckup and generally a terror. Her sister was in a cult somewhere in San Francisco.

Jughead spent most of dinner ( _OH EM GEE, how strange? They only have two tops here too, ta lovelies!_ Veronica had said an hour earlier) prying these factoids out of Betty so he’d feel less bad about finding them on the internet all day. 

“He did what?” Jughead asked, chuckling as if he was unsure of how to react (he spent an hour figuring out the best way to react if she brought up Chic, and the result was uncomfortable chuckle). 

“He would cam people, from my sister’s bedroom. For money I guess.” Betty shook her head, “All I wanted was a brother, and when I finally got him, all I wanted was for him to go away.” She ran her fingers through her hair, and Jughead sternly reminded himself that he was _working_ “Why am I telling you this?” 

“It’s my face, I swear, even serial killers would tell me where the bodies were hidden if I asked right,” And they did. It was wild enough to make Betty laugh again. 

“Well here I am rambling about my brother, what about you, siblings?” 

“Well, I have a sister.” Here was a tidbit he could give her, as a silent apology for how deep he creeped on a random bystander in a mobster holy war, she probably didn’t even know what kind of man Hiram was, “She lives with our Mom. Well I guess now she just lives in Ohio.” 

“Oh,” Betty’s shoulders shifted back. She was reading between the lines and he thanked her for it. “Your parents are seperated?” 

“My dad uh, hit the sauce a little too hard for a couple years when I was a teen,” Jughead willed his mouth to close, but Betty’s eyes were wide and empathetic, his words kept spilling out, “Mom left, took Jellybean. But I was deep into school.”

“I’m so sorry,” Betty reached out and covered both his hands with hers, “that must’ve been really rough for you.”

He shrugged. As if he wouldn’t do every difficult job ten times over just so he’d never have to think about that year again. “I got through it. I stayed with Archie for a bit, I have some friends that let me crash.” 

_I began killing people for money and to make the world a better place_

“Still, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, Jellybean and I chill all the time now,” _I trained her in the ways of the Serpent_ would sound weird, and also would raise too many questions. 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, my dad–” Editor-in-chief of the newspaper, has written a shocking number of opinion articles on the importance of family, “–lives in the basement apartment.” 

Jughead tilted his head. That wasn’t something that came up in his research. He flipped his hands, taking hers in his. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, it’s just, they started fighting when Polly got pregnant, and then when Chic showed up it got worse. They won’t get a divorce, so now he just lurks down there.” 

It’s somehow a reassurance that Betty still has secrets. He wants to know them all. 

“Well, let’s have a drink to our shitty parents,” Jughead let go of one of her hands to grab his whiskey, she mirrored the motion with her own Captain and Coke. They took clinked their glasses and took a sturdy sip, setting both the glasses down with a thunk.

__________

“How goes the mission?” FP asked during the weekly report call.

_Well Dad, I’m having the time of my life. This last week has been a dream. This girl is interesting, hilarious, beautiful, and I’m just using at her to get at a mob boss I didn’t even want to chase in the first place! Oh, and Archie is totally in love with Veronica. I have to pull him off her every night and pretend that it's normal to cockblock your bro that much. And honestly? I'm just jealous that my self control is better than his. I’m never going to tell you how sexually frustrated I am this week, but it will definitely go down in a record book somewhere._

“It’s going well. We’ve hung out with the girls a lot. Archie’s learned a stunning amount about Lodge Industries’ legal endeavors but absolutely nothing about it’s illegal ones.” 

“Are you getting any closer to an invite to the secret inner palace?” FP stood upright, his frame fuzzy on the tiny screen as he tosses a towel over his shoulder, and rubs his hands together. He’s bartending at the Whyte Wyrm then, and bossing his son around. Business as usual in the Jones family. 

“Soon I think, Veronica’s mentioned a pool at her parent’s penthouse. We’re think that’s our way in.” 

“Good.”

__________

They’ve broken pattern. Archie and Jughead both said it’s to shake suspicion but they both know each other too well for that.

They’re in deep, over their heads. They’re so far down they don’t know which way is up. 

This isn’t a casual group hang. This isn’t an accidental double date with a suspicious _oh we only have two tops at the moment_ , this isn’t a casual stroll through the park to discuss books. 

Jughead was alone at the top of the Empire State Building. 

With Betty Cooper. 

On a date. 

“You’re quiet tonight.” Betty linked her arm through his. When did they start doing that? He’s not even sure anymore. It feels like he was born to stand here, one foot braced against the runner, and the other on the ground, leaning forward as he stares at the small cars racing by with Betty’s arm through his. 

“Maybe I’m just used to having Archie around to bolster me into talking to girls,” which isn’t altogether a lie. 

“Yeah, I can’t recall the last time I did something social without Ronnie.” Betty cast a glance along the street, stepping up onto the runner. It’s easy enough for Jughead to move his arm around her waist, keep her supported upright. 

“You two are certainly glued at the hip, B and V forever.” 

“Her dad is very overprotective, and doesn’t like V going anywhere by herself,” Betty leaned slightly back, her ponytail resting on his shoulder. “He always asked me to stay close, especially when he’s away on business.” 

“Well, she’s alone tonight right?” 

“Andre is probably close by. Those heiresses have to be safe. You never know who is out to get them.” 

Jughead wished she’d just stab him in the gut. He could bleed out slow, it’d hurt less. 

“Well since we don’t have our fluffers we should probably head home,” Jughead motioned to push her up, and away, but she grabbed his hands, keeping his arms around her.

“No, no, it’s been awhile since I’ve been off-duty.” 

“Off duty?” He asked. 

“How come you’ve never been to the empire state building before?” Betty asked instead, turning in his arms to stand in his embrace, looking up at him. 

He went wrong somewhere. That’s all he can say. He definitely fucked up at some point. He’s standing on the Empire State Building, a beautiful girl in his arms. And he’s can’t do anything about it. 

“Well, New York was always what Archie wanted. I just wanted to be near Archie,” Jughead rolled his eyes, “I mean, he’s like a brother to me. And moving to NYC and having that hipster bullshit life meant a lot to him.” 

It’s the stone cold truth, he’d begged FP for weeks to assign them to NYC. There was a drug ring in Vancouver that FP wanted Jughead near. Jughead didn’t want to bust up yet another drug ring, he wanted to do the one off mercenary shots out of a major hub, and Archie wanted New York. 

“See, here you are, criticizing me for never going a moment without Veronica, and you succumb to live in the most expensive city on Earth to be close to Archie. At least Ronnie pays rent on our Park Ave apartment.” 

“Hey, I pay rent just fine, it’s –” _what’s the bullshit excuse on Friends?_ “–rent controlled.” 

“Well, I for one, am glad you agreed to live here.” Betty is smiling, and Jughead wants to bask in that moment. Where a girl like her can look at a guy like him as if the sun shines out his ass.

“Yeah, right now I’m pretty psyched about it too.” 

Betty leaned forward, and Jughead thought two things in quick succession. 

_Finally_

_Oh Shit_

He ducked away from her lips, sucking in too much air and starting a hacking wave of coughs as he doubled over. 

“Jughead? Are you ok?” Betty asked, and Jughead stayed doubled over, wishing he’d thought of anything else. 

He held up his thumb, and groaned, “You took my breath away, give me a second.” 

A weak slap hit his back and had him smiling towards the ground. If it was going to end in flames at least he’d have the memory that she wanted to kiss him.

__________

“I don’t think we’ve thought enough about extraction,” was something Jughead never thought he’d say. Extraction was the first thing Tall Boy barked at him when Jughead pulled on his leather jacket. Or maybe it was the tenth thing, but it was definitely a part of the first conversation.

“Yeah, I was thinking that too.” Archie responded, keeping in step with Jughead as they strode towards the fountain Veronica decided to be the meeting place. It was always their meeting place. Jughead would never be able to look at that fountain without thinking of Betty’s careful and slow smile. 

“What do we do? Just ghost them?” Jughead asked. It was easier when Veronica was a mark, and Betty was a friend to distract. Now...

Now things are complicated. 

“What if we’re not successful? What if we can’t find Hiram?”

“Failure is never an option Arch.” 

Jughead had never failed a mission and he wasn’t about to start _now_

___________

“It’s so hot,” Archie said, and the heat for once was working with their plans, and not against them. No haywire weaponry here.

“Well why don’t you take off your shirt Achiekins?” Veronica says, turning in her seat to face him. Archie’s hands go to his hem and Jughead sticks a hand out to quickly intervene. 

“Please, for the love of all that is holy, stop taking off your shirt in front of me,” Jughead pleaded. Happy that he could be his real self for most of this job, other than the parts where they were trying to kidnap Hiram of course. 

“Don’t you live together? Haven’t you seen it all?” Betty asked, holding a torpedo pop carefully in her hands where she’s been slowly torturing him by sucking on it for the better part of twenty minutes. Her shorts are too short, and there’s the barest hint of a tattoo curving under her shorts and damn it, he wants to see it. Another secret right there, and he could know if he was just a little more repugnant as a human being. He may murder people for money, but he drew the line at sleeping with women who didn’t know he was out for their best friend’s dad.

“Of course, I’ve seen him naked more times than I can count–” 

“Color me Jelly.” Veronica cut in, with impeccable timing that Jughead came to appreciate over the last week. 

“–but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be subjected to it in Central Park.” 

“Lightbulb moment,” Veronica said. And Jughead would’ve fist pumped if he was the type of guy to fist pump. 

“Ronnie…” Betty said, trailing off. 

“B, it’s totally fine. My Dad is away for the week on business –” _damn_ “–but I have the keys to his penthouse, and thus his olympic sized rooftop pool.” Veronica waggled her eyebrows and leaned back slightly. 

“Are you sure your parents would be okay with us being in your house?” Jughead asked, knowing full well that if her parents knew who they were that they’d be horrified she was even talking to them. Archie bit his lip, dishonesty still wasn’t his forte.

“It’ll be fine, we’ll go up, swim a few laps, cool off a little bit.” Veronica flapped a casual hand, as if brushing away any concerns. 

Jughead and Archie shared a look. And for once Jughead wondered if Archie hated how easy this was going. Jughead certainly wished that Agent Adams would show up and say “nevermind Hiram, we have another gig for you.”

Instead, Jughead found himself rubbing his arm as he waited for a hail mary before saying “sure, sounds like a plan.” 

“Lovely,” Veronica said, leaning back, and looking like a kitten who got a fresh bowl of cream, “can’t wait.” 

“Jughead, I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” Betty said, ignoring Veronica and the recently laid plans. She reached out for the hem of his sleeve, instinctively he moved away. 

“It’s a symbol of my misspent youth,” He lied quickly. “I haven’t managed to scrounge enough money to get it removed yet.” 

“Oh,” Betty said, her hand dropping in the space between, “the pattern looked familiar.”

“I’m pretty sure every idiot who happened to go to that parlor with not enough money to get an actual artist got the same tattoo,” Jughead said, trying for a wry grin as he sent up a quick apology to Toni, who had done a fairly good job drawing the snakes. 

“Even I got one,” Archie jumped in, leaning back. “Dad nearly killed me.” 

“Yeah,” Betty patted her thigh. “Mine too.”

_______________

Jughead squinted at his CallerID, partially in shock that he hadn’t deleted the number years before. He hit the green button and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” 

“Jughead! It’s me, Kevin Keller, from high school, remember?” 

They went to the same high school in the same way that Jughead theoretically lived on the same planet as Nicki Minaj. He knew it to be true, yet all he had to go on was Twitter and a vague understanding of how physics and time worked. 

“Yeah, sure, what’s up man?” Jughead looked towards Archie, who was coming out of his room in his swim trunks, he pointed towards his phone and mouthed Kevin Keller. It occurred to him that there was a reason Kevin could be calling. “Do you want to speak to Arch?”

“You guys _live together?_ that is so sweet. No. I wanted to give you the skinny on the weirdest thing that happened today.” 

“Alright,” Jughead shrugged, itching his head under his beanie, “shoot?”

“So you know how sometimes, if I’m waiting for my dad, I just sit at the station and I answer the phones and pretend to work there?” 

Jughead wanted to point out that it’s _illegal_ but he doesn’t.

“Well, today I get a call asking about one Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third–”

“Wait, someone called me by my name?” 

“Oh yeah, hold on to your hat my baby darling, ‘cause it gets weirder. She says she’s writing a paper on up-and-coming crime fiction novels, and I had no idea you were writing crime novels. I figured that I should just roll with it, and I talk about how you were always clacking away at your keyboard while hanging out with your friends.” 

“Yeah? What’d she ask?” 

“What kind of friends you had, I said you hung out with all the southside kids with a sprinkle of Archie and Cheryl. I didn’t name them of course. She asked if there was a tattoo parlor you all hung around to which I said that you certainly all had tats but I had no idea where you got them, and then she asked if you were in a gang, and at that point I realized you probably didn’t want me telling some reporter out of Long Island that you rolled deep with the Serpents so I said you were a good Christian boy. Who did his homework and kept his head down and wrote disturbing short fiction for the Blue and Gold.” 

As Keller spoke, Jughead sank against the wall, covering his mouth as he tried to process who would call, and who would ask questions about him. 

_It’s been awhile since I’ve been off duty_ she said. 

_Fuck._

“Are you sure it was a woman out of Long Island?”

“No, she said she lived in New York but I recognized them Long Island digits–” 

Jughead rattled off a number he knew by heart, he’d accidentally memorized it while waiting for Betty to text him back. There was a shuffle of paper and –

“Yeah! That’s it! Do you know her?” 

“Thanks for letting me know Keller, I’ll see you at the ten year reunion.” Jughead said, and hung up as quickly as he could. 

“What’s wrong man?” Archie asked. 

“I think we have a problem.”

__________

“It’s not like Keller told her you’re a highly trained assassin, she’s probably just trying to make sure that we’re not in a gang. We were being very shifty about the tattoos.” Archie tried again, before turning and trying to walk up the block.

For the fourth time, Jughead grabbed Archie’s arm and tugged him back, “I’m telling you! I’ve had a bad feeling about this from the get-go, and now Betty definitely has something on us. She slipped up by calling Keller, she didn’t know that he would call me. I mean, who would think that? She’s not from a town like Riverdale.” 

“So? She knows nothing Jug. Do you know who else knows nothing? Us. Adams wants Hiram or his location by the end of the week or they’re pulling the plug on this job.” 

“So let him! That guy is shifty anyways!” Jughead let his arms fly up and drop back down, “we shouldn’t be talking about this outside anyways.” 

“Listen, Jug. I’ll turn around and walk home with you right now, ignore all of the texts and calls from Veronica. Even if she sends me a nude, I won't respond but you,” Archie poked Jughead in the chest, “you’d have to be the one to tell FP you pulled the plug on a job without consulting him first.” 

There are times in life, when students surpass their teachers. And sometimes their teachers love it. 

“Fuck you, Arch,” Jughead said as he brushed past and started to stride up to the apartment building. 

They ushered through the gold plated doors up to the Penthouse. A politely smiling doorman at every step of the way. 

_Hiram Lodge is a bad bad man_ Jughead told himself. 

Elevator doors slid open and Jughead stepped into them, Archie close behind. 

___________ 

Jughead Jones had been on her mind all week. A tantalizing bit of mystery to make the summer go by faster. Usually Veronica’s flings offered nothing in the way of entertainment for Betty, not that Betty minded. She was one for a deep abiding love or nothing at all. 

But Jughead. 

Jughead Jones. 

Those were eyes a girl could get lost in forever. 

He had no facebook, instagram, snapchat, or twitter. No stories published ( _yet_ he’d say before crossing both of his fingers, and that odd look crossing his eyes once again) anywhere that she could see. But after a flash of skin she decided to go a little deeper. 

Jellybean Jones had a now-defunct tumblr under a user name _Snakeygirl_. Most of her posts were the musings of a sad teenage girl whose parents had suffered a messy break up. A fair number of political reblogs, and a few failed DIY attempts. Betty struck gold under the selfie page. 

Jellybean, front and center with a tattoo, high on her chest, nestled under her collarbone, an open smile. A cluster of friends in the background in various states of celebration, including a _surprise_ shirtless Archie, his back facing the camera, and one Jughead Jones, his tattoo on proud display, smiling with wide abandon. 

The caption read: “With the fam”

Betty smoothed down her shorts. 

With the fam. 

“Betty, the boys just rung up. Pray to all the heavens in the world that today is the day I get Archiekins on his back in my bed or I don’t know how much longer I can handle this flirtation.” Veronica said, from the doorway. “If Jughead Jones interrupts my carefully crafted seduction one more time I’m going to snap.” 

Betty turned to face her, tucking her phone into her back pocket. Veronica’s brow furrowed quickly. 

“Is everything ok B?” 

“Yep, I’m just …” Betty tilted her head, “desperate to get my hands on Jug too.”

_________ 

Veronica flowed into the room as if she was the queen of the world. A bikini that Jughead was sure he saw on a model at fashion week earlier that year plastered on her body and a long black robe flowing behind her. She carried a tray of green drinks and somehow made it look effortless even as she wore heels higher than Jughead had seen any real live woman wear in her own home before.

Jughead could hear Archie’s intake of breath and nearly rolled his eyes.

They should not have taken this job. 

“Why hello there boys,” Veronica lifted the tray “I’ve got a present for you! Margaritas with a bit of a kick to get this summertime event started right.” 

They both took a margarita, and Archie went above and beyond to take the tray away from her as well, tucking it under his arm. 

“You both look good enough to eat as always,” Veronica said, and gestured towards a chair, “just put your bags there, and we can run and hop in the pool.” 

Who the _we_ was clear by the fact that she quickly took Archie’s hand and led him away, 

“Oh Juggie, Betty is in the kitchen, why don’t you give her a hand?” 

_Great, the woman with the secrets is near all the knives_ He thought. And refused to gulp nervously. 

So what if she had secrets! Jughead had secrets too. And a body count that was impressive for his age. There was a very specific area of Texas that was pedophile free thanks to his violent meddling. Betty had said, if indirectly, that she approved. 

It’s not like she was a trained assassin either. There were only so many secret organizations like the Serpents and they all knew of each other. She didn’t have the Ghoulie mark behind her ear. Nor did she have any of the signs of the abroad groups. 

No, she was just a woman, who researched him a little too deeply. 

He could handle that. 

It was a prewar apartment, marble and stunning details everywhere he looked. The kitchen looked to have a high tech version of all it’s ancient components. Betty stood at a chopping block, swiftly moving a knife against a board. 

“Knock knock,” he said as he stood in the threshold, “Veronica sent me to help you.” 

Betty didn’t turn, didn’t flash him a smile. That wasn’t normal. Something was wrong. 

“Who sent you?” 

Alarm bells rang in his head. 

_Play dumb play dumb play dumb_

“Veronica? Ronnie? V?” 

_Too much_

“Was it the Lowensteins? In Pennsylvania? Or Kowalski? Or was it someone else? I could stand here all day and list people but you and I both know that Hiram has a long list of enemies and you are not as dumb as you pretend.” 

“Betty, what are you talking about?” None of the names rang a bell, which is a small mercy in of itself, he can keep pretending the floor underneath him hadn’t dropped away. 

The chopping stopped. 

Betty spun, and in one quick movement threw the knife across the room. It was always going to miss Jughead, he could see that, but it was his training that had him catching it out of the air and flipping it into a ready hold. It took every ounce of his strength not to throw it back. 

Belatedly, he realized his mistake. He hadn’t screamed, he hadn’t ducked, he hadn’t panicked. He caught the knife. 

_Should’ve walked away_

“Oops Juggie, you let your facade slip,” Betty said, tsking her tongue. She shook her head, that beautiful ponytail swaying behind her. 

The next knife she threw had more of a direct path to his face, but it was easy enough to pick up a frying pan and smack it out of the air. He lifted his leg and shoved the center table towards her, the heft of it skidded and hit her in the gut as he ducked along the side and dodged the third knife. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Betty!” Jughead shouted, spinning to hide behind the refrigerator. 

“Well maybe I want to hurt _you_ Jughead!” A fifth knife, purposefully bounced against the wall to glance off at him. He caught it and spun quickly, catching her in the sleeve. It thankfully pinned her to the wall, giving him a moment to gather himself. 

“Well then maybe you shouldn’t’ve worn a flowy top to a knife fight,” he said, not his best, as Betty tried to pull the knife out. She lifted her whole body by the handle, planting both her feet on the center table, and kicking. 

Jughead dodged and rolled through the center, coming out onto the otherside, before rolling again to avoid a pot thrown towards him. 

“Will you just listen to me? I can explain everything!” Jughead said, as he stood upright, facing Betty who was still partially pinned to the wall. She was standing on the tip of her toes struggling against the fabric. Her shorts were riding up and she looked furious. 

“You think I don’t know what you’re here for?” Betty shot a butcher’s knife towards him with terrifying precision. “Everyone wants to take out Hiram Lodge!” 

“I don’t want to take him out,” Jughead muttered as Betty yanked out the knife. Her tattoo was a flash of green high on her thigh. “I didn’t even want this stupid job!” 

He threw another knife and trapped her to the block. This time she freed herself far quicker.

She spun to face him, a fury come to bring wrath down onto mankind. 

_Alright, hand to hand combat_

She lunged first across the small space, striking out at him. He parried and striked back as hard as he could without actually hurting her. As they traded blows with their fists and the solitary knives they both held, it became clear that they both trained under the same masters. Their moves mirrored each other a bit too much, the strikes a little too clean. Belatedly he realized that just as he was pulling his punches, she was pulling hers too. Just like the knives, she wasn’t aiming to kill, just lightly maim. 

“Now, if you want me to believe that you’re mad at me, you’re going to have to actually hit me,” Jughead said, a bit too cockily, as he held Betty’s arm far over his shoulder, and kept her weapon from stabbing him. 

Which was when Betty picked up a frying pan and smacked him in the face.

Stars burst behind his eyes and he lost his balance, stumbling down. 

“I deserved that,” Jughead grunted from the floor, he rolled on his back and dodged another blow from Betty, who straddled him quickly. 

It was a less elegant fight, with Jughead on his back, and Betty doing her level best to hit him again with the frying pan, 

“Who sent you?” Betty shouted one more time for good measure, cracking the floor with a well aimed warning shot. 

Jughead’s head jerked up, and he came eye to eye with it, or rather, eye to pair of eyes. A two headed Serpent coiled on Betty’s leg. 

“You’re a Serpent?” He asked, her response was to punch him in the ear with her free hand that he hadn’t quite managed to grab. 

He rolled her onto her back, and she used the momentum to fling him backwards. He slammed into the stove with a grunt and lunged to his feet, putting his hands up, scraping a knife off the ground as he went, ready to grapple again. 

“What the fuck are you guys doing?” Veronica shouted from the doorway, a confused Archie behind her. “If you’re into kinky stuff, please keep it out of the kitchen and in your own bedrooms!” 

Betty and Jughead locked eyes for a quick second, and did exactly what a Serpent was trained to do when they were backed against a wall. 

Jughead grabbed Veronica, holding the knife as far away from her neck as he could while still being intimidating. 

Betty grabbed Archie, who, despite his extensive training, was surprised and quickly got him into a hold, pressed against the ground with a knife against his neck. 

“What is even going on?” Veronica asked, struggling in Jughead’s arms. 

“Veronica, please, I’m telling you, I really like you as a person and I’m not here to hurt you, or Betty. Neither is Archie. Please stop struggling because I feel like there has been a misunderstanding and we should just talk this out.” 

Archie grunted into the floor, and Betty pressed harder against his spine. 

“What misunderstanding could there possibly be?” Betty asked, and Jughead wanted to point out that she’d been the one attacking him, he’d purely done defensive moves thus far. 

“You’re a Serpent, we’re Serpents. We’re always on the same side Betty. Rule number five betty, a Serpent never betrays their own,” Jughead stared at her imploringly. 

“No, Juggie, it’s a Smith never betrays their own,” Betty tapped her thigh, “this is my family’s heritage.”

“Betty, work with me here. –We have the exact same tattoo. There’s no way that two assassin organizations have the same–”

“Who are you here to kill?” Veronica cut in, “Betty isn’t an assassin! She’s my Capo–”

“Ronnie don’t tell them anything, we don’t know who these guys are,” Betty gestured with her elbow as she spoke, and Jughead hated that he still found it cute. 

“Ok here’s the plan. We each ask five questions. Then we’ll let our friends go. And we’ll leave. And you’ll never see us again. Other than a check to repair the damage in the wall. Agreed?” 

Betty waited, then jerked her head in a quick nod. 

“Now, how are you a Serpent?” He asked. Betty bit her lip and shook her head. “This only works if you answer the questions.”

“I only have one question Juggie, the rest is just bullshit. Who sent you?” 

FP was going to _kill_ him “The FBI.” 

“What?” Betty asked, her face screwing up in confusion. 

“Why?” 

“To get information on the whereabouts of Hiram Lodge and bring him in for questioning. We’re the good guys. We never kill just for greed and we never do a job unless it’s for justice.” Jughead looked to Archie for backup, Archie was nodding his head against the floor. 

“That’s bullshit, Daddy is in witness protection, the FBI knows exactly where he is.” 

_I knew it_

“Well, we have found the miscommunication. Sorry to have wasted your time. If you don’t mind getting off my friend Archie’s spine, we’ll be on our merry way. I won't even press you to answer the question as I’m rushing on my way to go die of embarrassment now.” 

Betty nodded, and did nothing. 

They stared at each other, and Veronica gulped in Jughead’s arms. 

Betty gestured with her knife, “You first.” 

Jughead released Veronica. She rushed across the room to take her place behind Betty, her capo, her on-duty bestie. 

“Now, my puppy-like friend, if you don’t mind,” Jughead said, gesturing towards Archie. 

Betty hesitated for a fraction of a second, a whole fraction that Jughead’s throat stayed closed, before standing up. 

Archie rolled towards Jughead and jumped up onto his feet. 

“It’s been real ladies, and I hope you instantly forget this ever happened,” Jughead said with a wave and dragged Archie out of the room. 

Jughead didn't stop dragging him until they were in their apartment halfway across town and his father was on the phone. 

“–she knew my name Dad, my real one.” Jughead paced the floor of his bedroom, feeling like at any moment an angry Betty would appear and throw another knife at his head. 

“Calm down, what'd you say? Her name was Betty Cooper? There's no Serpents named Cooper.” FP hadn’t yelled at him for messing up yet, that would come after Jughead calmed down. 

“I know, and when I quoted Serpent law she changed Serpent law to– wait she didn't say Cooper she said Smith.” 

The line went quiet, Jughead pulled his phone away from his face to make sure the call hadn't been dropped. 

“Dad?” Jughead probed.

“Smith? You said she's blonde right? Hot? Smart?” 

“Yeah,” Jughead ran his fingers through his hair, taking off his hat for the briefest of moments before jamming it back on. 

“You, Archie, come back now.” FP gritted out, “You've gotten in the path of a Viper and I don't know what she wants.” 

“Betty?” He asked. Sure, she was probably the best fight he’d ever had, but a Viper? She didn't even know the code. 

“No. Not Betty. _Alice._ ” Jughead opened his mouth to ask more but FP was already barking out orders. “Get on your bikes and get back here in the next hour.” 

And the line was dead, leaving a confused Jughead standing in his room, holding his phone.

_________

“Why are we even here?” Veronica asked, throwing her arms up as she walked through the hall of the apartment. The whole place screamed _men_ in the boring sort of way that a tv show would design an apartment two guys lived in. Dark colors, framed art, a few choice photos framed about the rooms. Even their apartment was a front. There was nothing truly personal about their living room.

“Is it so we can breathe in the beautiful scent of a traitor?” Veronica asked from Archie’s doorway, a room that Betty already swept for traps. 

“I gotta figure out who the FBI agent is that sent them, and then we can figure out what happens next,” she explained, which is partially true. 

She was also curious. 

It wasn't lost on her that they used the same moves, the same tactics, hell they had the same tattoo. 

Who was Jughead Jones? 

Or Archie Andrews for that matter? 

There was a tiny bit of personality in Jughead’s room, and a lot of flannel. The man liked blankets as much as he liked layers. There was a photo of him standing behind a bar, his arm thrown around a bartender, a wide smile on his face. The resemblance was uncanny, a father maybe? Another photo of Jellybean. Photos with friends, Archie, a pink-haired girl, a round faced guy winking at the camera, a red-haired girl. 

Betty ran a gloved finger under the desk, checking for triggers, secret spots. 

If she was a secret whatever where would she hide her guns? 

Betty turned towards the irresponsibly big bed. The luxury didn't match up with the self-flagellation she came to expect from Jughead. 

The trigger was at the front of the bed, the mattress, blankets and all, lifted up to reveal a small arsenal of guns, pressed into memory foam. A handgun was missing. 

_Jackpot._

Her phone rang out, “Brand New Key” by Melanie. Only two people called her, she didn't bother to check the caller ID. 

“Hi Mom,” Betty said lightly, as if she wasn't standing in the bedroom of a killer. 

“Hi sweetheart, sorry I missed your call. Mrs. Williams would not shut up about her prize winning labradoodle-” 

“Mom, who are the Serpents?” Betty asked, also not wanting to hear anything about the labradoodle. 

“Where'd you hear that word?” 

“Jughead saw my tattoo. You said we’re the only ones,” Betty was leaving so much out and she knew it. She was not saying how she he knew Jughead’s reflexes were a little too quick, his statements just a tad bit calculating at times. 

It's going to be high school all over again, they're going to call her crazy, emotional, unhinged. Her one emotional outlet, the family legacy, now has been tainted. someone's been lying to her and she knows she should want it to be Jughead but she wants it to be her mother. 

“He said what?” Alice asked, her words stumbling over each other. 

“We have the same tattoo. I called his hometown and he used to run with this group called the Serpents. He said rule number five mom, what’s going on?” Betty should've driven out to Long Island to interrogate her mother instead of Jughead’s empty room. Alice would always have the answers.

“What's Jughead’s real name?” Alice’s reporter voice came quickly, replacing the panic. 

“What does that even matter? Who are we, mom?” Betty feels like she’s on the teetering edge of a precipice, about to slide into oblivion. 

“His name Elizabeth!” Alice said in the tone that brokers no arguments. It's the same one she’d bark directives at Betty with as they trained, day in and day out. 

“Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third.” 

She held the phone away from her ear as her mother swore a blue streak, scrunching her nose. It was so like her mother to deflect. 

“Betty, roundup Veronica and some clothes for a few days.” 

“Why?” Betty shrugged, nudging the bed with her feet and lowering the mattress back onto the guns, “The boys are long gone.” 

“We’re going to get to get to the bottom of this, and we’re going to make sure none of Veronica’s so-called family try to take a hit out on her again.” 

“They didn't take a hit out on her.” She's already defending him, which feels off and a little wrong. There’s no reason why he couldn't be lying about the hit actually being on Veronica. 

_He kept the blade far from her neck._

His hand was shaking with the strain of it, the natural position of holding blade against skin, and his arm was two inches in front of Veronica’s neck. 

_That means nothing, you have no idea who this guy is_

He caught the knife like it was nothing, like she threw a pen at him.

_Don't I?_

Standing in his arms on the Empire State Building, watching the cars drive by. 

“Do you want to get to the bottom of this?” Alice asked. 

“Of course,” Betty never wanted to know anything more. And she's wanted to know a great number of things in her life. 

“Then we’ve got to go into the Snake’s pit.”


	2. Chapter 2

Archie never looked right in his Serpent Leathers. He always looked like he stumbled out of a football game and into a biker bar in a snowstorm and someone gave him a leather jacket in a vain attempt to save him from hypothermia. 

He stuck out like a sore thumb with his perfectly parted hair, and his straight upright spine. 

With the beginnings of a nasty bruise on his face and a beer easily gripped in his hand, Jughead fit right in. 

Serpents from all over were jostling in the bar, word had spread like wildfire ( _thanks Sweet Pea!_ ) about the Viper nest foiling a job. A Viper was always a big deal, the last time one came to light was in Jughead’s senior year; a teacher in Portland exposed a corrupt politician. 

They were mysteries, loners, enigmas. 

He wished he'd taken that route so he wouldn't be at the bar in that moment, sitting between Toni and Archie while his mind replayed all the ways he messed up. 

Betty was a Viper. 

It made sense. 

She was, after all, an enigma. 

“Now we got some bad Intel, and that's going to have to be dealt with,” FP said, the chattering conversations died as everyone faced their king in rapture. 

Everyone but Jughead, who took another swig of his beer, staring at the wall. 

“And the agent will be dealt with. If I know Alice Smith, it won't be long before we’ll be hearing from her.” 

Except it apparently had been twenty-five years since anyone heard from Alice Smith. 

“I think it's important, as we grow as an organization for me to share with you the growing pains and recognize my failures, so, Jughead,” FP paused dramatically, and the whole room shifted to look at Jughead who just wished the ground would swallow him whole. 

_Don't fall for it, don't fall for it._

“Do you have something you'd like to say to your old man?” 

FP looked him at expectantly. 

He knew he was taking all the fun out of it. 

“I told you so.” Jughead said with a roll of his eyes. The Serpents burst into laughter, hitting each other. And somehow Jughead felt worse about being right. He propped his head on the bar, taking another sip of the beer. 

“Agent Adams, the FBI guy in somebody’s pocket, will be dealt with before his own deadline for the job. Remember, if your gut is telling you something is wrong, then listen to it–” 

“Or else you might get smacked in the face with a frying pan,” Jughead muttered to Archie, who tried his best for a sympathetic look.

“What was that Jug?” FP asked, lifting a hand to his ear. 

“Nothing Dad, nothing at all.” Jughead set the beer down, swiveled on his stool, and made his desperate bid for freedom, “Doc says I should be in bed.” 

“Well then –” 

The doors banged open, the flimsy wood smacking against the wall. One dusty framed painting clattered off the wall and shattered on the floor as a woman strode into the room. 

The woman wore leather and fishnets in a way that suggested she only wore leather and fishnets. Jughead knew better, he’d seen photo after photo of her in a sweater set or in tasteful business suits on the internet. What stood before him was a Viper returning home, striding back into the den she’d left behind. 

Materially, she matched everyone else in the room. Hell, even the rage on her face could be matched by at least one person in the room. What set her apart was the woman just behind her, dressed in a skirt and a plain pastel sweater, her sleeves tugged down and her fingers curled into fists over the edges of the hem. She looked like a terrified teenager following her strange aunt around at a rock concert. 

_Betty_

Part of him had never wanted to see her again. After all, she had whacked him in the face in with a frying pan and he had somehow managed to fumble a case in front of her eyes. Not to mention he had also very briefly held her best friend hostage, spilled out all of his guts to her over the course of one very great week, and lord only knows what other things were bound to keep him up at night. 

His very core had some other ideas. Namely for her to never leave his side. 

“Which one of you snakes shoved a table into my daughter?” The woman – Jughead used his context clues to assume that she was in fact the famed VIper Alice Smith – shouted. She glared around the room and shot a wink at an old timer leaning against the wall by the jukebox. 

Unfortunately for Jughead, but very helpful for Alice, the Serpents parted like the red sea. Jughead did his part and stood up, crossing his arms as he did so. Archie stood up from his stool, ranging behind Jughead as he always did. 

He tried not to look at Betty too much. 

He only failed a little. 

Betty was failing as well, her eyes stuck to him like glue, as if she was worried he’d disappear into the ether. 

“You’re one to talk! Your daughter smacked my kid in the face with a frying pan, and gave him a concussion,” FP spoke with wide gestures from the stage. Betty’s eyes snapped to FP and took him in, studying him as if he was another part of the puzzle. Those big blue eyes, taking in every clue the Whyte Wyrm had to offer up, drifted back to him, where he tried to stand strong. _Crack me open like a book Betts, read all my innermost thoughts Betts._

“It’s a part of the job FP, he knew what he was signing up for when he went through initiation–” Jughead would’ve liked to jump in and point out that this particular situation had not been run past him as a possibility prior to initiation “–if anything you should be embarrassed that he didn’t finish the job.”

“The job was to make sure that Hiram Lodge was in the custody of the FBI, and as soon as they did. What, did you want my kid to kill your kid?” There’s an confused exchange of glances from Jughead’s generations, but the old timers seemed to smirk in recognition, as if they were turning on the TV and catching a scene of a show they once watched religiously but hadn’t caught up with in a few years. 

“Not seeing a job through means weak moral fiber–” 

“Hey!” Jughead finally butt in, tired of the adults talking about him like he wasn’t there and he wasn’t a highly trained professional who killed people for a living, “There’s nothing wrong with my fiber okay?” 

“Why are you here Alice? You made it very clear that you were going to put the Serpents in your rearview mirror. Yet now you have a daughter who wears our mark and fights with the best of us?” FP held out his arms, “once a VIper always a–” 

“I worked my ass off to make sure that Betty would have nothing to do with this life,” Alice said as she gestured around the room. Jughead had officially given up on not looking at Betty. He couldn’t help but watch how she took in the room, the people, the coats they wore, the stances they took, the subtle pairs of partners they stood in. “All this bullshit about killing for the greater good, while still living in a trailer park in the middle of nowhere!” 

“We save lives! And what do you do? Write newspaper articles while your daughter plays bodyguard?” FP took a step off the stage, and Jughead wished that they had taken this somewhere else. That this confrontation wasn’t happening in a sea of Serpents who were all calmly watching, learning, waiting. They were a family, but FP was the leader and his integrity couldn’t be compromised. 

“She’s a damn good one too, she found your boy out too. And from what I understand he’s one of your best, unless,” she cast a long glance around the room, “maybe the Serpents have decreased in quality over the years.” 

“Mom, maybe we should just go,” Betty said, tugging on her mother’s elbow. 

“We’re not leaving until we get what we came here for,” Alice leveled a look at FP, arching a brow, “Are you going to give me what I want FP?”

“That depends? Is it an asskicking?” That elicited a wave of oohs from the Serpents, they jostled for a better view. 

“I want to know who from the FBI is asking about Hiram,” Alice requested. 

Veronica strode into the room, as if she was waiting for a cue to make the most dramatic entrance. Jughead was going to have to introduce her to Cheryl now that Veronica knew about the organization. She wore a dress that was fitted to be a second skin with signature pearls on around her neck. Jughead could feel Archie’s chest press against his back as Archie tried to get slightly closer to Veronica. 

“And I want to take a hit out on the mob.” Veronica said, hitching her hands on her hips. 

“Who in the mob?” FP asked, stepping closer as Serpents parted to let him through, lifting drinks as if to prevent the glasses from entering FP’s zone of temptation. He bartended regularly, but his sobriety was not to be trifled with. 

“Everyone.” Veronica’s eyes burned. 

Archie sucked in a breath behind Jughead, and Jughead knew he couldn’t keep silent any longer. 

“Maybe the middle of a town hall isn’t the best place to talk about a potential–” Jughead started. 

“Here’s the thing,” Veronica stepped around Alice, her heeled foot stepping with a pointed grace and drawing attention to her legs, “I miss my parents. A lot. I’m surrounded by spoiled brats who can run home and cry to their parents, while I’m stuck pretending to _be_ my parents. Let's keep that between just us friends and the FBI, since apparently you've already told everyone about the leak. This was supposed to be temporary. I thought ok, I can wait a few months. I got my Capos. I got my work. I’ll be fine. Right?” 

Every Serpent in the room is hanging on her every word. Archie kept shuffling Jughead forward, closer and closer to Veronica. 

“Wrong! Every three months some idiot thinks they can be the one to take out Hiram Lodge and get the bounty on his head. Well I want to put a bounty on the heads of everyone who has ever pointed the finger towards my father. And from what I heard on the car ride here, you’re the people to talk to about it.” Veronica clasped her fingers together. “So, do we sit down and sign some paperwork? Do I give you half now and half later?”

FP nodded, the look on his face was one Jughead saw almost constantly through his early adult years. The _I’m thinking about it_ Face. 

“I’ll take out the fake agent for you, that much we owe you for the inconvenience of sending two Serpents in your path–” FP helpfully gestured towards Archie and Jughead, who now stood within arm’s reach of the trio of women and FP himself, as if to helpfully remind Betty and Veronica who had been lying to them all week “–but all the mob bosses in New York? That’s a tall order.” 

Veronica’s chin jerked upwards. “You know I’m good for the money.”

“Oh, I know,” FP said pointedly. “Why don’t you come down into my office and we’ll talk about it.” 

The Serpents near the stage scramble back, squeezing as best as they can out of the way as the pistons hiss, and the dusty faded wood floor lowered slightly, revealing a brightly lit ramp. The entrance to the Snake Pit has always been hidden in plain sight, ready to be opened for anyone who had the money and a worthwhile cause. 

“Gladly,” Veronica said, and took a step forward, past Archie and Jughead towards the entrance to the snake pit rather bravely, as if she hadn’t had a target on her back as early as that afternoon. Jughead bet that Betty’s hand clasped in Veronica’s made it easier for her to confidently stroll forward. It wasn’t lost on Jughead that Betty didn’t look him in the eye as she passed. Alice followed with more of a swagger. 

Archie looked at Jughead, and leaned forward to nudge him, “up for round two?” 

“This time we get the right bad man?” Jughead asked with a half-smile. Archie smacked Jughead’s shoulder, clearly forgetting about the patchwork of bruises his body hosted ( _thanks Betty_ ) and followed Alice. Jughead winced and stepped in line, just in time to get caught in the chest by FP’s hand. 

“What?” Jughead asked, looking at the hand before looking at FP. There were only so many warnings he could be getting this time around. 

“Didn’t Doc say you should be in bed?” FP said, patting Jughead’s chest. “Go home Jug. I replaced the pull out mattress.” 

FP disappeared into the pit as soon as the directive was given. As did a fair number of Serpents, winding down into the hidey hole. 

With them went the enigma of Betty, the secrets that Jughead wanted nothing more than to unravel. 

But FP said jump so Jughead thought: 

_Fine, I wanted to go home anyways._

Jughead turned against the tide of the Serpents and worked his way home.

________

“Down Hot Dog, no,” Jughead scooped his arms under the dog in question and lifted him up off the bed and set him on the ground, “wait. Let me make the bed before you wreck it.”

Hot Dog’s response was to let his tongue loll out as he panted, setting his butt down on the ground. 

Jughead unfurled the sheet and whipped it against the mattress, “you've literally never stood up before and suddenly you want to investigate the bed? Suspicious behavior.” 

Jughead’s back didn't appreciate the way he had to shift and move to tuck in the fitted sheet, and the top sheet only went slightly better. Jughead studied his handiwork before gesturing towards the bed. Hot Dog took the hint and jumped up, curling in the dead center, waiting for Jughead to join him. 

“At least I won't be sleeping alone tonight,” Jughead said to himself, as he went to the kitchen to grab the pillow he left on the table. Was it just that morning he was fantasizing about somehow Betty finding out that he was a Serpent after her bestie’s father and being fine with it? 

Jughead was fairly good at reading people and he had a strong feeling that she wasn't at all fine with it. 

Jughead pulled off his beanie, putting it on top of his leather jacket on his coat hook. He knew it was his coat hook because a helpful eight year old Jellybean had written his name and an arrow above it. Along with _Dad, Mom,_ and _mine_. Jughead, the helpful big brother he was, had provided the marker and held her on his shoulders. 

The clothes he wore were relics from high school, a worn out S shirt and thin flannel pants . Found in a drawer full of clothes that gave him flashbacks to dances that he avoided, and games he went for moral support only to catch Archie making out with Val behind the bleachers. He has enough distance now to enjoy it, smile fondly at all the milkshakes and cheeseburgers they’d eat after school. It’s a comforting balm after a long and embarrassing day, and all that’s missing is a good crime fiction novel to tie the evening together. 

Jughead stopped, his knee on the mattress and his hand on his sheets when it occurs to him that he hadn’t been home since his birthday. He looked over at his shelf, lo and behold, a shiny copy of the latest crime thriller ravaging the nation is sitting there waiting for him. 

“Don’t mind if I do, Michelle McNamara,” Jughead said as he leaned forward and grabbed the book. He settled down into the creaking bed, his glass of refreshing water at his elbow, and the terrifying true tale of the Golden State Killer in his hands. Hot Dog shifted his head to settle in on Jughead’s knee. 

“We don’t need any intrigue or All American Girls turned Capos, we got each other,” Jughead said before shoving his black hair out of his face so he could read. 

He didn’t even get a sentence in before he heard the thwap of the screen door opening, followed by the scrape of a key. 

“Back so soon?” Jughead stuck his finger in the book, shifting in his bed to look at FP. “I expected any deliberations with Veronica Lodge to go for at least ten more hours.” 

FP flapped a hand at him, “you decent?” Jughead gestured towards himself, as if to say _duh_. “No, I mean you already showered and all that jazz?”

“Yeah, it’s all yours.” Jughead pointed with the book towards the shower, as if FP needed guidance to the shower that he bought and installed himself several decades earlier. 

“Well, we’re going to have some guests tonight and I wanted to make sure you were resting.” FP stepped towards the couch and rustled Jughead’s hair, which he only did when he felt incredibly horrible about something. 

“Who is–” Jughead started to ask, but he already knew, because there was no way he was going to have his nice quiet night with his dog and his book.

Alice Cooper neé Smith stepped into the trailer and looked around, “I love how you’ve done absolutely nothing to the place.” 

Betty stepped in behind her, and Jughead felt more naked and vulnerable in that moment than he had in any moment in his entire life. _Hey Betty, welcome to my innermost life_

“Um, Dad, What?” Jughead asked, shifting to stand up. 

“Oh, no need to stand on our account, as you’ve got a massive concussion,” Alice said, her words kind but her tone decidedly not. Betty’s brow furrowed and her mouth twisted in concern. 

He’s sure it’s karmic retribution for all the murders he’s committed. This exact situation, getting hazed for an injury brought on by a woman that he actually really liked, by that woman’s mother while the woman herself looked like she was ready to apologize? It’s the universe making sure he suffered a little more in his lifetime than he had already. 

Jughead sank back down into the bed, the squeak of the old frame sounding far more embarrassing than reassuring now. He decided to kindly ignore Alice’s digs and get at the meat of the matter, “Why are they here of all places?” 

“Negotiations hit a bit of a wall you might say. It’s been a long day for everyone.” 

“Why aren’t they staying at a hotel or something?” Jughead asked, “It’s not like this is the biggest trailer in the park.” 

“Veronica is staying at the Pembrooke,” Betty offered up, and it was the first thing she said to him since he left the apartment earlier that day. As if they were casual acquaintances instead of … whatever they were. 

“Dad?” He pushed, and FP hitched his hands on his hips, his leather jacket lifting up slightly with the move. 

“Alice is an old friend, and you know the rules. Serpents get treated like family. They’ll be sleeping in my bed,” FP waved a hand as if it didn’t mean a horrible realization. 

“And you’ll be sleeping…” Jughead prodded. 

“On the couch with you.” FP said with a shrug. 

“Nope, no, I can think of some far better sleeping arrangements.” Jughead’s words were met with a look of shock from both Betty and Alice, a roll of eyes from FP. “Like on the floor of one Archibald Andrews’ room.” 

He stood up, stumbling slightly as he tried to find his footing – just because his day wasn’t embarrassing enough now he had to add overtired and mildly concussed to it. 

“Boy, you should not be riding your bike like this,” FP tried for his best stern parent voice, when he should’ve gone for your _I’m the leader of your shady organization_ voice. That was the one Jughead listened to. 

“I rode it all the way up from New York. I’m fine, it’s just a surface thing.” Jughead waved at his own face and grabbed the book off the bed, angrily shoving it into his bag. Betty began to play with her sleeves, a step above her worrying fist clenching. He hated that he knew that, such an intimate little fact about how she showed concern. “I’ll text you when I get there.” 

“Jug,” FP said, stepping the voice up a notch. 

“Enjoy the bed,” Jughead stepped between the women to get at his jacket. First went on his hat, his de facto security blanket. He stood a little closer to Betty than he should’ve as he pulled on the jacket, not missing the way her eyes flitted up and down his form. “I’ll warn you two, his bed is a nightmare. He hasn’t replaced it since 1998.” 

“Jug!” FP shouted, before dropping down into his Dad voice again, “you do not need to go bother the Andrews in the middle of the night.” 

“Archie will still be up, it’s fine.” 

He had to lean past Betty, his arm near hers, to shove his feet into his boots. She smelled like perfume and the barest hint of the Whyte Wyrm. Her mouth had twisted into a frown, and more than once she tried to say something, but nothing came out. 

The night before when he said goodbye to Betty, he’d leaned in, carried by impulse to do something he’d regret, cross a line she wouldn’t appreciate when it was all said and done. But she stared at him, wide eyed and hopeful. 

Now she stared at him, wide-eyed and unreadable. 

“Good night,” he said with a jerk of his chin, and was through the door and out into the cool night air. 

He took two long steps towards his bike, the door thwapping behind him. Pajama pants weren’t the best clothing for a brisk evening motorcycle ride, but Jughead hadn’t really thought anything through. He just knew he couldn’t be in the same trailer, overnight, as Betty Cooper. Not until he’d gotten his head on right. 

The door didn’t have it’s reverberating slam, and he cast a look over his shoulder as he threw his leg over the bike. 

There, silhouetted by the kitchen light, was Betty, her face cast in shadows. 

For a split second, he sat there, looking up at her, as she presumably looked down at him. He didn’t know what to say. He knew they should talk, but he couldn’t yet. 

“There’s a copy of ‘In Cold Blood’ in the office if you get bored.” Jughead said, and instantly looked forward. 

_What?_ Here he was fleeing her, and also trying to make sure she was comfortable? 

Jughead kicked his bike into gear and it lunged forward. Roaring his way to Archie’s.

___________

Jughead was of the opinion that it wasn’t breaking and entering if the lord of the manor had given you the keys. Granted, the fact that the keys were given to him nearly two decades earlier when Jughead was checking in on the long-dead Vegas while the Andrews were out of town made his possession a little iffy.

Still, it was creeping towards two in the morning and he didn’t want to bother Mr. Andrews. 

Jughead creeped up the stairs, as Vegas the Second greeted him at the top of the stairs with a full body waggle. 

“Hey there man, good to see you.” Jughead gave him a quick pat on the head and wanted to take a video to send to Hot Dog to demonstrate proper dog behavior. Hot Dog really was far too much like a cat for anyone’s liking. 

He didn’t bother to knock, that was his first mistake. 

His second mistake was stepping into the room with his whole body instead of just checking. 

“Jughead! What!” Archie hissed as he sat up, and Veronica went down, covering her chest, and rolling to his side, taking all the blankets with her. 

“Ah what? How?” Jughead held up a hand to cover their bodies, “I didn’t see anything, well obviously I saw too much.” 

Veronica, with her chest now covered with a sheet, sat up next to Archie, shaking back her hair, “I thought you were resting?” 

“Yeah, until the family Cooper came to the trailer, and I thought I’d crash here–” Jughead watched in horror as sweet kind Archie opened his mouth to offer up anything, the couch most likely, “–but I can see that someone is not at the Pembrooke and someone else has been forgiven for their crimes for this week.”

Archie and Veronica both tried to answer at the same time. 

“She left Andre in the city so I thought I’d protect her–” 

“I have _not_ forgiven Archie yet, I’m just getting the inevitable out of the way.” 

Jughead waved a hand at them, “Sorry for interrupting. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

_________

The cabinets in the kitchen were a mint green Betty found soothing and somehow reminded her of her youth. Summertime visits to ice cream shops in the backwoods of the Adirondacks. She let her hand trail along the countertop as she walked around the small kitchen, waiting for her mother to get off the phone so she can return to the bedroom.

FP told her he didn’t mind, he was sitting upright on the couch-bed, the side that Jughead hadn’t occupied. They were both pretending not to notice how they check on each other every so often. 

“So, Jughead tells me you have a daughter too?” Betty finally asked. 

FP sighed and set down his phone, looking up towards Betty, “Yep.”

“Is she in the business too?” The family business. They’re all family here. If not by blood but by the blood they’ve spilled together. 

“Sort of, I keep her purely in a research capacity. She’s got a big brain like her brother but no violence in her like he does.” 

Betty nodded. She had seen the violence in Jughead, before. Granted she didn’t think he’d actually kill anyone. But she saw his thirst for justice, his desire to see horrible people brought to their knees. 

The fact that he was the one bringing them to their knees should’ve been more of a shock. 

Somehow it wasn’t. 

“In Texas, there was a man who killed a bunch of pedophiles. He strung it out over weeks. The newspapers called it –”

“I’m going to stop you right there Betty. That’s Serpent business and I don't know why Jughead told you about that –” _Jackpot_ FP didn’t realize he was only confirming what she suspected. She hid her grin behind the fridge as she moved to the gap between the rooms, a polite face of interest remained when she stepped into the light, “–you may be a legacy, but you don’t to get to hear the tales we tell at the bonfire until you choose to take up the mantle.” 

FP stared at her for a moment, waiting for something. Agreement, he wanted agreement. She nodded. That was easy enough to give him. 

The door slammed open, and Jughead strode in, looking like he’d never been more mad in his whole life, which she somehow doubted. 

“That’s the ninth time!” He said, pointing towards FP, “With the seventh woman!” 

FP burst into laughter, causing Hot Dog to lift his head in casual interest, “I would’ve told you, that girl was eyeing him like a piece of meat.” 

Jughead turned and came face-to-face with Betty, who couldn't hide her smile. 

“You knew too,” Jughead said, with an accusatory point of his finger. 

“You didn’t give me time to warn you. I figured you guys live together and you’ve seen everything so you might not mind.” Betty tilted her head and smiled, crossing her legs where she stood. It was a flirty stance, one she’d taken with him several times. 

“Well,” the corner of his mouth tugged upward slightly, as he shrugged his coat off and slammed it on the peg. “There are some things I don't want to see, let alone nine times.” 

“Betty? You can come back in now.” Came her mother’s voice from the bedroom. 

“Well, I hope you don’t have nightmares Juggie,” Betty said with a smile, swinging her head around to go towards the bedroom. She stopped in the hallway, where she had just enough of a vantage point to see Jughead fling the book on the bed and drop down onto his spot. FP reached out from his side of the bed to jostle Jughead’s hair, and Jughead shoved his arm away with a half hearted Dad! “And Jug?” 

Jughead leaned forward, their eyes met through the kitchen window, “you’re going to want to put some ice on that eye, it’s starting to bruise.” 

A full blown smile, mixed with something else, was the last she saw of Jughead as she disappeared into FP’s room to spend the night. 

Sure, she wasn’t spending the night wrapped in Jughead’s arms like she’d hoped when she woke up that morning. 

But somehow she felt like she was closer to him now than anyone had ever gotten before.

_____________

Jughead’s face throbbed when he woke up, with what passed for sunlight in the curtained trailer beating down on his back.

“Rise and shine,” FP’s voice was too cheery and too close. Jughead groaned and shifted in his bed, squinting up at his father. “Eggs, just how you like it.” 

As promised, FP handed him a plate of eggs, cooked just how he liked it. Alarm bells rang in his head, “Who cooked these Dad?”

“What? A father can’t cook his son food?” FP said with mock offense. 

“They’re not burnt.” Jughead pointed out helpfully. 

“You got me kid, Betty made them.” It all came rushing back, the fight, the dramatic reveals, walking in on Archie _yet again_. “I’m taking Alice down to the Pit to see some of the old timers and see if we can’t talk her out of her Viper ways.” 

“I’m _not_ a Viper!” came that venomous tone that Jughead was coming to know and hate. 

“Alright, alright.” FP coaxed an unseen Alice, before turning back to Jughead. “Can you give the legacy a tour?” 

Jughead nodded, scooping a bite of the eggs into his mouth. He was starving. They only stopped once for food on the way from New York. 

“Let's take a look at that face,” FP said as he took a grip of Jughead’s chin and turned him so he could see. He sucked in a breath, “she did a number on you.” 

“Alright, I’ve had worse before,” Jughead said, pushing away FP’s hand. 

“Not a fan of being emasculated?” Alice asked from the entranceway. 

“I’m not a fan of being babied. I got whacked in the face in a fair fight. Nothing emasculating about it. Nobody is on Betty for favoring her right leg after I slammed her around but whatever,” Jughead set his empty plate on the side table, and thanked his lucky stars that he didn’t have morning wood or else he wouldn’t be able to make a dramatic exit. “Now if you don’t mind I’m going to go shower.” 

He brushed past FP and Alice, and only gave Betty in the kitchen a nod of recognition. 

“Oh Jug?” Alice called. 

_Don’t look back, don’t look back, its a trap._

He looked back.

“Don’t think about my daughter when you’re in there.” 

“ _Mom_!” Betty spun around, her fists clenched. 

FP snorted as Alice smirked. 

Jughead couldn’t let the smirk sit, and tried for his best rejoinder. “I wasn’t planning on it, but I’ll let you know how it goes.”

Alice’s face screwed into a glare as she prepared to lay into him, FP’s laughter rang off the walls of the trailer as Jughead fled into the tiny grimy bathroom to get ready for the day. 

_One point for the Jones boys_ he thought with a smirk, though he still wasn’t sure what side FP was on.

_________

The sink was empty and the bed had been turned back into a couch, with a neatly folded pile of blankets on an armchair in the living room, by the time he got out of the shower. Betty sat on the couch, the book he’d only managed to read a chapter of before falling asleep the night before cracked open in her lap. She looked pristine in a short skirt and a top that was so quintessentially _Betty_ that it probably had been handmade for her by an angel.

“You ready to explore?” he asked, shrugging into his flannel.

“It’s 80 degrees outside, why do you still layer up?”

“Just like Veronica, I have a commitment to an aesthetic.” He shrugged, “and the pit is always freezing. You’re going to want to grab a sweater.” 

“I didn’t pack one,” Betty shared, which made sense, as the summer had hit them in full swing. 

“Alright,” Jughead turned around and grabbed one of his old flannels off the hook and tossed it at her, “here, trust me you’re going to want it.” 

Betty caught the flannel with ease, standing up to shake out her legs. “Where’d all the romance go Jug? Last week you were carefully helping me put on your flannel, now you’re just tossing it at me?”

Jughead turned slowly, his head tilting as he realized what just happened. 

Betty Cooper

Was flirting with him?

She smiled as she brushed past him, stepping out of the door, “Also, I hope you don’t mind but I folded up the bed. I wasn’t sure if your back could handle the strain.”

Jughead’s throat caught, he’d definitely thought that FP temporarily had a personality transplant, possibly due to the presence of Alice, and had cleaned up the bed himself instead of making Jughead do it. 

“You’re the one who's got the aching back, my back is just fine.” Jughead shot back, a little impotently. Betty shot him another smile over her shoulder as she strode towards his bike. 

Jughead grabbed his jacket, unwilling to go back in the Pit without his mantle. He may be next in line for the throne but he was off his game. He didn’t know which way was up and which way was down. 

He was still in too deep, even if he’d been thrown a rope. 

He just had to get his footing back, that’s all. Then he could figure out what to do next with the likes of Betty Cooper.

_________

Jughead tried to see the Snake Pit from Betty’s eyes, the same way he’d tried to when he first let Archie in three years before.

In sharp contrast to the bar above, everything here was made with stainless steel metal, and inlaid lights. Everything was bright, and clean. The bikers looked out of place as they walked around carrying folders and talking by water coolers. They lived for the dichotomy, the wild nature of the biker lifestyle with the grounded secrets of a massive organization. 

They had rules here that were clear and laid out. He told the relevant ones to Betty as they walked around. Her eyes drank in everything as they passed, just as everyone drank in her. 

The woman who smacked the prince in the face with a frying pan. 

“–as a Legacy you get free reign of the first two floors, floors three through five are strictly verboten,” Jughead said, gesturing towards the elevator that went deep underground. 

“There are five floors?” Betty asked, shock in her tone. Jughead looked around the hall, the gleaming walls and the pristine stations for Serpents who worked in the pit and the pit alone. 

“Er, yes.” Which wasn’t lying, it would’ve been lying if he said there were _only_ five floors. 

He pushed open the double doors at the end of the hall, trying to hurry along the tour, “and this is the heart of the pit. Where we eat, train, and decide on our missions.” 

It was built like a small stadium, with an raised area for eating to one side, and a platform in the center for the gauntlet. His father’s office was at the top of a set of stairs, overlooking the whole room. 

“I can’t believe all this is just… hidden, right below the surface,” Betty said, crossing her arms as she looked around. He wished he could read her mind, and know what she was thinking, find out what was hidden beneath her surface. 

“Well, yeah. It started innocently enough. The Uktena wanted to protect the victims in this town, they started by driving out these murderous relatives of the Blossoms and then it kinda just snowballed into this whole big–” he swirled his hand and gestured around “– thing.”

“And you’re the prince,” Betty stated. Jughead nodded absently, and scanned the platform for his friends. 

“I’m definitely something. Your ward is up there with mine, let’s go grab some food and join them.” Jughead jerked his head towards the full cafeteria spread. 

“Jug, you just ate not even an hour ago.” 

“What’s your point Betty? I’m a growing man,” he reached out, and took her hand, tugging her towards the cafeteria line, “let’s grab some food.” 

With his heart in his throat he waited for her to tug her hand out, to break their connection. 

She didn’t.

_____________

His friends, and that was a very loose term at that moment, all stopped talking as they approached the table. Toni stood up first, a predatory grin on her face.

“You ready for the lightning round Betts?” Jughead pointed towards Toni to start and went around the table, “Toni Topaz, Cheryl Blossom, Sweet Pea, Fangs, Joaquin, you’ve met Archie, and your very own Veronica.” 

“Betty, it’s a pleasure, a deep pleasure, to shake the hand of the woman who finally smacked Jughead in the face,” Toni said, as she reached out and took Betty’s hand in hers. 

Betty’s chin jerked back in confusion. Jughead should’ve seen this coming, any chance to razz him couldn’t go unchecked. 

“Oh wait, me too, me too–” Sweet Pea was already standing up and walking around the table to shake Betty’s hand. 

“Come on guys!” Jughead nudged a cackling Toni further down the bench. He could order them to stop, but that was an abuse of his power that he wasn’t willing to do. He’d have to ride out this storm – however long it might last. 

“Yeah, guys lay off.” Archie said, a smidge unhelpfully as Veronica’s arm was entwined with his and he hadn’t given his usual full attention to the situation. Veronica scooted closer to him, ostensibly to make room for Betty, but Archie’s arm was curling around her waist. Jughead always knew those two crazy lovebirds would make it. 

“How’d you two miss that young Miss Betty Cooper is clearly skilled in the fine arts of hand-to-hand combat?” Cheryl asked, leaning forward across the table, “With shoulders that broad how would she be capable of doing anything else?” 

“Easy there Cheryl,” Jughead managed, before picking up his burger. He wanted to make a joke about how not all of them spent all of their time looking at women’s shoulders to analyze how well their legs would rest there but he’s not close enough to Cheryl to tease her like that yet. Also, he spent entirely too much time looking at Betty’s shoulders. 

“So you’re all assassins?” Betty asked point blank, Veronica took a cautious bite of her fries as if ready to take in all the knowledge. 

There was an uneasy wave of shared looks amongst the group, but as always, it was Sweet Pea who broke the tension, “Obviously,” he said with a smirk. 

“So how does it work? You all just run solo projects? Pair up to annoy the hell out of heiresses?” Veronica asked lightly. Archie shot a frown at the side of her face but she ignored him, keeping her eyes trained on Jughead. 

“We do what we need to do, when we need to do it,” Toni offered in her cagey way, looking at Betty with a smile she’d perfected in high school, her _Hardened Gang Member Don’t Fuck With Me_ look. 

“Everyone at this table, present company excluded of course, is part of my er…” He doesn’t have a word for it. They’ll be his something someday. His second in commands, his thirds. His most trusted confidants and advisors. But right now they’re just his friends. 

“They’re his court,” Cheryl said, casually excluding herself. He shared a glance with Toni. They were always worried about Cheryl setting herself apart. She still had yet to consider herself one of them. As if Jughead only kept her around because she was dating his Second in Command.

His eyes slid to Betty’s only to find hers fixed on him, a frown forming. 

“Anywho, I’ll be going now,” Cheryl announced. Standing up. Jughead rolled his eyes and took another bite of his cheeseburger, already dreading what would come next. Cheryl moved to the front of the table, and smoothed down her red dress. 

Toni nearly kicked Jughead in the gut getting out of the bench, walking up to Cheryl. The shouts from the table started early. 

“Do you have to do this every time?” Joaquin asked rather forlornly. 

“Let them do what they want!” Sweet Pea shot back. 

What they wanted to do was make out in full view, and as they always inevitably did, they ended up leaning against the table. Jughead shifted his tray over, scooting down to save his food from the wrath of hands trying to grab purchase. Betty was less safe, and decidedly more shocked, when a hand landed too close for comfort to her food. 

“Come on guys! You’re scaring our guests! No one just makes out for five minutes as a way of saying hi or bye,” Jughead tried to say, unsure if Toni or Cheryl even heard him. 

Toni broke away to turn to him, Cheryl cleaning up her lipstick lines behind her. “Your man there spent fifteen minutes making out with Fifth Avenue outside.” 

“Um, excuse me, but I live on park place. Very different,” Veronica clarified helpfully. Cheryl flitted away to do whatever intimidating thing she’d laid out for the day. 

“Oh come on man!” Jughead rolled his head towards Archie, “this is our place of work, why does everyone have to make out here?” 

“Like you wouldn’t, given half a chance,” Archie muttered, nowhere near under his breath, as he was a natural projector. 

_Don’t look at Betty, Don’t look at Betty._

He looked at Betty. 

Their eyes locked and for a moment he seriously considered saying, _okay fine fair, Betty, let’s roll_ but he didn’t.

“I’ve never made out with anyone in the Pit,” Sweet Pea clarified unhelpfully. 

“We all had to go through privacy training last year because you got caught with your pants down in the closet with Numbers from accounting,” Fangs pointed out. 

“Yeah, but we weren’t making out.” 

“Alright that’s it, no more talking of making out in or around the Pit,” Jughead took another bite of his burger to punctuate the statement, hoping it’d stick. He couldn’t quite look at Betty so he kept his eyes fixed on the other end of the table. He’d never looked so much at Joaquin in one sitting before. Joaquin was beginning to look nervous. 

“I just can’t believe that a girl I knew from summer camp is here, what a small world,” Veronica said with a sigh. 

Jughead looked at Toni for clarification, and she just gestured towards the red lipstick that covered her lips. 

“Well it’s a tiny universe apparently.” Jughead said dryly, taking another fry. 

“Everyone was wondering when Alice Smith was going to come back into our lives, and it turned out it was going to be when her kid smacked you in the face–” Sweet Pea said, just trying to get a rise out of Jughead. 

And fully succeeding. 

“That’s it! I’m tired of hearing about the one time I let someone land one on my face.” Jughead smacked his hand against the table. 

“I also punched you in the ear,” Betty supplied, reading the tone of the room and more than happy to join his peers in ragging on him. He ignored her. 

“You–” he pointed at Sweet Pea, “Me, in the ring now. If you can get my hat you can keep talking about it, if you don’t you have to shut the hell up.” 

“Ooh, I want in on this,” Toni swiveled in her seat to face Jughead, “gauntlet?” 

“FP said we were supposed to be on our best behavior!” Archie pointed out futility. 

“Gauntlet.” Jughead agreed.

_______ 

A dirty sweatband was produced from the depths of the Pit and jammed on Sweet Pea’s head where he stood in the center of the ring, shaking out his limbs.

“Alright, you know the rules!” Toni shouted from her place at the corner of the ring, standing on the ropes, “each contestant has a hat. The objective is to get the hat and toss it out the ring. Once the hat is tossed out the ring a new contender can pick it up and put it on.” 

She tossed her hair over her shoulder to cast a look at Sweet Pea and Jughead, “but let’s be real the point is to get Jughead out.” 

Jughead rolled his eyes, rotating his arms as he waited for the bell to ring. Betty and Veronica sat primly in the bleachers, waiting for the fight to begin. A crowd was forming which was always inevitable. 

“You ready to get smacked down twice in two days?” Sweet Pea asked. 

“Uh huh, sure thing bud,” Jughead prided himself on his knowledge. He had the greatest team in the Serpents. Skilled killers and strategists, who in their own ways were strong, adept. 

And it was his job to know their weak points. 

It almost made the Gauntlet unfair. 

Jughead turned towards the audience and looked for something, anything, to make Sweet Pea think he wasn’t paying attention. 

“Hey Betty, I forgot to ask, did you sleep alright last night? I know that mattress has a few springs in it.” 

That was the wrong thing to ask. 

A symphony of oohs rose up from the group, and Jughead shot out a quick “get your mind out of the gutter,” just as the bell actually rang. 

Sweet Pea, strong as a bull, rushed him head on. Jughead sprung up on the ropes and spun around, moving quickly out of the way and snatching the sweat band off the top of Sweet Pea’s head and shooting it out into the crowd. 

Sweet Pea was swearing as he hit the ropes. 

“Ha!” Jughead said quickly, but there was no waiting in the gauntlet. He turned to face his next competitor. “Oh Arch, Et Tu Brute?” 

Archie just shrugged, and took his time before approaching Jughead. 

Archie had the slight advantage that he trained with Jughead on a weekly basis. Learning new tactics on how to outsmart opponents. 

In less than fifteen hits Jughead was flinging the sweatband back into the crowd. 

“Come on guys! I can’t be undefeated sixteen times in a row, that’s just boring,” Jughead tried goading, he didn’t particularly like it, but it usually worked well to get into people’s heads. He turned slowly in the center of the ring, waiting for the next contender. 

He was mildly shocked to see Betty standing there, smoothing down her skirt. 

Jughead hadn’t actually expected a _challenge_

“Promise not to pull your punches this time?” Jughead asked. 

“I won’t if you won’t” Betty said, raising up her fists. 

“Hold on, hold on, hold the display of machismo.” Veronica climbed up onto the edge of the ring, “my girl Betty here only has a skirt on, and I know that she’s been desperate to see what you can do when you’re actually trying to win and not on the defensive, but I don’t trust half of these creeps not to look up her skirt. Can we establish ground rules?” 

“No kicking, no throwing?” Jughead offered, trying to think of what could cause a potential upskirt. He was smiling too hard, he’d wanted a rematch too. 

“Deal,” Betty said quickly. 

“And you should take off your shirt.” 

“Ronnie!” Betty dropped her fists and turned towards Veronica. 

“Yeah take off your shirt!” Toni shouted from the edge of the stage where she judged from the top of a corner pole. Smirking, he knew she didn't want to see him shirtless, but definitely wanted to see him embarrassed. 

“Yeah!” Came another voice from the audience that Jughead decided was best not to try and place. 

“It’s only fair Jughead, she’s in here half naked you might as well be too,” Toni offered. 

“Fine,” Jughead grabbed the hem of his worn S shirt, the same one he’d slept in the night before as his wardrobe was fairly limited in Riverdale, and pulled it off, tossing it in Archie’s direction. He tried not to feel self conscious about how little sunlight his skin received, nor the many scars he held from many years of working very hard for justice. He was very aware of how little he did pull ups in comparison to his best friend, who was fairly more liberal with the shirt removal. 

He adjusted his cap and looked back at Betty, who was biting her lip, her fists back up in ready position. 

“I now deem this fight to be fair,” Veronica said, and dropped back off the ring and into Archie’s waiting arms. 

Betty and Jughead circled for a moment, neither of them willing to the first ones to make a move. He’d thought about how he’d come at a rematch, a little too much last night as he drove up the interstate to Riverdale. He’d use the techniques he’d had less experience with. Sure his moves would be sloppier but they’d be less expected. He’d have a better chance of getting past her excellent defenses. 

In the end Betty made the first move, striking out with a hit that he parried. 

Quickly he realized that she too had come to the same conclusion. Her hits were a different form, less practiced and refined, but still forceful and smart. 

They landed a few blows on each other, the sound of her fist smacking his skin making him wince every time. They weren’t fighting to the death, nothing would bruise too much, but it still hurt. 

He grabbed at her band a few times and she ducked away. She managed to nearly almost hook a finger in his beanie, but didn’t quite make it. 

Every so often they parted, circling a bit and grinning at each other before meeting in the middle and trying again. 

Jughead didn’t hear the crowd anymore, and he didn’t see the pit. All he saw was the the shifts in Betty’s eyes, the clench of her fingers, the movement in her elbows and knees that led an attack. Part of him wanted them to be suited up properly in gear so they could do this right. 

Part of him wanted them to be naked in his bed. 

Most of him wanted both, one right after the other. 

He didn’t know what that said about him. 

“Ready to give up yet?” Betty asked, after a close one. 

“Why would I? I’m winning,” Jughead shot back. 

“Boy!” 

FP’s voice broke the spell, and Jughead dropped his fists. The roaring of the crowd jostling at the edge of the ring came back. Veronica and Archie were standing on the edge of the ring, rooting a little too closely. Money was being changed hands as people tried their best to predict the outcome. Jughead reluctantly looked up at the entrance to FP’s office. 

There FP stood, Alice at his side with her arms crossed and a frown on her face. 

He shook his head slowly and crooked his finger at Jughead. 

“And the Guantlet is called on account of someone is in trouble with their dad!” Toni shouted at the edge of the ring. 

Groans surrounded them, none of them louder than the sinking of Jughead’s heart.

____________

“What part of ‘tour’ meant ‘throw down in front of everyone’?” FP asked, crossing his arms.

“It kinda just happened! She jumped into a gauntlet.” Jughead said a little too quickly, his heart beating a little too fast and he was being overwhelmed with the sudden need to be _alone_

“A gauntlet! I told Archie that you guys should be on your best behavior while the girls are here.” 

“We were! It kinda just… Happened.” he repeated again. 

“Now, I want you to go home and rest up. Maybe it’s best you just lay low there for a day or two while I talk Veronica out of this crazy plan of hers. Now go on home.” FP made a shooing motion. 

Jughead wanted to point out that he was next in line, that he should be involved with whatever Veronica wanted. But he also had a burning in his guts that he’d never gotten from _fighting_ and the stark realization that just right then he couldn’t figure out what was the best course of action. 

And he _still_ hadn’t talked to Betty. 

“Fine, I’m going home today, but I want to vote on Veronica’s proposal tomorrow.” Jughead said impotently. FP was going to vote on it when FP wanted to vote on it. No matter what Jughead said. 

“Fine, go.”

___________

“Jughead, May I speak to you, Mob boss child to crime lord child?” Veronica asked from the front of his table at Pop Tate’s Chocklit Shoppe.

Jughead looked around the abandoned diner, making sure no one heard Veronica. Satisfied with the emptiness, he closed the book and set it down next to his empty cup of coffee and gestured towards the far side of the table. 

“Where’s your capo and your capo in training?”

“Archie drove me here on his bike, and Betty is training with Toni.” Veronica said as she settled into the seat. The words _Betty_ and _training_ in close proximity had him nearly squirming in his seat, but he couldn’t show fear. If he knew Veronica, which he was fairly certain he did, she was about to ask him to talk to FP for her. 

“Jughead, I need you to talk to your dad for me.” 

Ah, the manipulating apple didn’t fall far from the manipulating tree. Jughead didn’t have much experience with the mob but it was always people asking for favors or for people to talk to people. 

“You’re not going to butter me up first before you ask a favor of me?” 

“You may be part of a secret organization, but at your roots you’re still a gang, and you appreciate blunt honesty in a person. I mean, you specifically seem to appreciate a well placed hit and a high pony-tail but that’s neither here nor there.” 

At least it wasn’t a potshot about his face. 

“So what do you want me to say to my dad? Please oh please kill all the bosses for Veronica?” Jughead didn’t want to point out that FP hadn’t even talked to him about the offer yet, he wanted to wait and see what Veronica had to say. 

“Your father is under the impression that I want to clear out the city of competition so that when my dearest father comes back from the war, he can have New York City for the taking. I’ve tried to tell him that Daddy is a reformed man but he’s not buying it, which is fair. Hiram Lodge is not a man many trust. But I can’t very well tell FP the truth. You, however, I can.” 

Jughead wished he had more coffee. Instead, he folded his arms and leaned forward. “What makes you think you can tell me the truth but not FP?” 

“We’re friends aren’t we Jug?” Veronica asked. _The Most Dangerous Woman In America_ he’d called her. 

“Well, I don't know if I’d call us friends. I tried to use you to get at your father for a week and now you’re trying to pay my Dad to kill a bunch of people for you, so.” Jughead shrugged, “I don’t know, I don’t really see us making friendship bracelets anytime soon.” 

“I think we’re going to have a deep and abiding relationship. Afterall I … care very deeply for your closest friend, and I already know that your feelings for my bosom buddy are not exactly the shallowest of pools. We’re going to be connected Jughead, for quite sometime if I can read the tea leaves right.” Veronica shifted slightly, leaning forward, “and I adore Betty, she means more to me than the universe, and I know you feel the same about Archie. But there’s certain things that neither of them will fully understand about our lives, and how we’re expected to take over certain responsibilities.” 

Jughead rapped his fingers against the table and waited for Veronica to go on.

“The fact of the matter is that you’re ready and willing to take over the family business. I, on the other hand, have been trying to make Lodge Industries go legit since I bought my first property at the tender age of sixteen. I’ve been shedding our illegal dealings like a snake sheds ill-fitting skins while my father’s been away. He’ll be seething when he comes back, and I know that. But here’s the thing. He has to come back,” Veronica leaned even further forward, “so that he can go away.”

“Are you going to take a hit out on your own Dad?” Jughead asked. 

“No, of course not. Although,” Veronica rolled her eyes, “no jury in the world would find me guilty. The man is a tyrant and the cage I’ve lived in is a gilded one. I know he loves me, even if it is more the idea of me than as a person.” 

“So what does my Dad okaying the hit on a few choice mob bosses have to do with your Dad coming back and then,” Jughead shrugged, holding up a hand to emphasize, “going away.”

“Your father is right, Daddy dearest will not be able to help himself once he sees how barren and open the underworld of New York will be, but I’ll be there, and I’ll be waiting, with proof. I want to give my father just enough rope to hang himself with so he can go away for a long, long, time.” 

“Where does your mother fit into this?” 

“She’s a pawn, she thinks she’s a player, but she has moments where she knows better. She’s given me some tools in the past to help me gain my independence. She’ll be spared.” 

“Where do the Serpents fit in?” 

“I know that you won’t take this deal without leverage. And I’m prepared to give you what I have on Daddy, plus any information that will quickly get him arrested.” 

“Why do you think we care about getting Hiram Lodge arrested?” 

“Archie told me about the hit list.” 

Jughead let his eyes flutter shut, and he waited. What he waited for, he wasn’t sure. Probably a less ridiculous friend. 

“I think it’s great that you have a list of people that you’re ready to take a hit out on a moment’s notice. Although it does explain why you slipped up and took the job from a crooked FBI agent in a desperate attempt to get Hiram Lodge locked away. I asked about other names on the list–” 

“Ronnie, I need you to stop talking before I have to kill my best friend for being a dumbass. Please.” 

“All I ask is that you move Nick St. Clair up the list.” 

“You really should go reconnect with Cheryl more.” 

The bell rang behind them, and automatically, Jughead turned to check. Betty waved excitedly at them with half of his crew in tow. 

“I’ll think about it,” Jughead said out of the corner of his smile, as he watched Toni usher Betty towards the booth. Archie followed them into the shoppe, evidently tired of waiting outside.

__________

Jughead liked it best when he was surrounded by his crew, when it was a loud and messy overlapping conversation and people stealing fries off of each other’s plates. Mostly him stealing fries off of other people’s plates.

It helped Veronica’s words settle in his mind as he thought about it, ruminated. 

What wasn’t helping his mind ruminate was Betty. Beautiful Betty had sat next to him out of habit, and now due to the size of the group was shoved into the crook of his arm. She was doing her best to drink her milkshake without getting in anybody’s way, while he was doing his best not to smell the lingering scent of her hair like some sort of sex-starved weirdo – especially where Toni and Sweet Pea could see. 

“Archie? Jughead?” Came a voice that Jughead honestly would not recognize had he not heard it only the day before. 

“Kevin!” Archie said, standing up to hug the tall man who walked up to their table. Jughead stood up on the booth, abandoning the warmth of Betty’s side, seeking freedom from the temptation of her existence, to come around and shake Kevin’s hand properly. With the added benefit that he’d dodge a scolding from Archie later about proper etiquette when not murdering people. 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you until the ten year reunion,” Kevin said, as he shook Jughead’s hand. It felt weirdly formal, as if they’d just wrapped a job interview. 

“Oh yeah, well I didn’t realize we’d be coming home for Hog’s birthday,” he lied quickly, he cast a glance around the table, and tried to figure out who Kevin would know. “Um, Toni went to high school with us,” Toni lifted her hand in a half wave, “And Joaquin–” 

“We’ve met,” Joaquin interjected and Kevin nodded quickly, keeping his eyes going. Jughead decided not to ask about it later. 

“Then Sweet Pea had math with us, and Veronica and Betty are friends of ours from New York who drove up to see these sweet Riverdale sights.” 

“Couldn’t resist a chance to see how my baby grew up,” Veronica said with a smile and a wink towards a blushing Archie. 

“Ooh, so you guys must know the reporter who was interviewing Jughead for a piece,” Kevin nudged Jughead, “how’d that go?”

“I’m sorry, a reporter?” Betty turned in her seat, her knuckles white on her milkshake. Jughead leaned across the top of the booth slightly. Happy that the stars aligned to bring him that moment. 

“Well, Betts, a reporter called the sheriff’s office to ask about my misspent youth and my years in a gang. Kevin here helpfully took the call and tried to deflect a few questions for me.” 

“Oh?” Betty took another sip of her milkshake. He could see the horror in her eyes. _You messed up_ Jughead wanted to say, but instead he just leaned a little closer to her, and watched the red flush grow on her cheeks. 

“Yeah, these big city reporters always forget how these small towns are really just,” Kevin nodded, looking at Joaquin, “so small.” 

Joaquin grinned, his arms shifting to stretch across the back of the booth.

________ 

“Psst, Jughead.”

Jughead lifted his head from his pillow and squinted into the darkness. Hot Dog’s warmth against his back and the sound of FP’s snoring just beyond it. “Betty?” 

“Can we talk?” 

Jughead shifted in the bed, pushing up onto his hands and knees, before standing up. He stumbled his way through pulling on his sneakers and layers. She said nothing as she waited, watching him rub his eyes as he moved around the trailer. He followed Betty into the darkness of the night. 

They walked the length of a few trailers, before Jughead finally said, “was there a reason you pulled me out of my sweet dreams to walk around in the middle of the night?” 

If he was smoother he’d add something like _although I must say, it’s better to walk with the subject than the fantasy_ but he’s never been smooth. That had always been FP’s forte. 

“I just … I feel like every time we’re close to actually talking about this someone pops up and says something or someone asks you to do something. I just wanted to clear the air.” He can’t see her too well in the dark, but he can see she’s at defcon sleeve shoving down. 

“Alright, let’s clear it.” Jughead shrugged off his leather jacket that he pulled on out of habit and handed it to her. Dew was already beginning to form and her pajamas are mostly a suggestion of clothes rather than actual clothes. 

“I’ll start. I’m not going to apologize for attacking you, it’s my job and also my instinct,” Betty said quietly, barely loud enough that he can hear her over the sound of their steps in wet grass. 

“Good, you better not.” Jughead shot back. No one should have to apologize for defending their home, of that he’s always been confident. He would’ve done the same had Veronica and Betty infiltrated their lives trying to get after Mr. Andrew’s Construction company. 

“I will apologize for hurting you. I didn’t want to, and although you probably deserved it, I cared a lot about you.” 

_Cared_

Past tense. It sliced Jughead a little deeper than he thought it would. But they had been flirting and joking and sparring in front of everyone. He had a tiny bit of hope but now...

“Your turn Juggie.” She said, breaking the silence that stretched between them. He scrambled for what he’d been wanting to say for days. How to change the _cared_ into _care_ once more. 

“I’m sorry for taking this job even though it was wrong, and for using Archie as bait. Although I think we can agree that he’s really good bait–” 

“I think that bait has definitely hooked that fish.” 

“And I’m also sorry for leading you on,” Jughead caught her elbow, the same one she’d angrily gesture with when she was too stressed to stop messing with her sleeves or her hands. 

“You didn’t lead me on Jug, I’m used to the guys only being there for –” She started, but he couldn’t stand it. He didn’t want to hear about the others who had used her for access to Veronica, as different or similar as their intentions might’ve been to Jughead’s. He didn’t want to be lumped in with them. Or did he want Betty to think he thought of her as an obstacle. 

“Don’t– just don’t make any assumptions about how I felt. I’m sorry about how I got thrown in your path, but I’m beyond happy I was.” It was too honest. He was saying too much. 

Betty frowned up at him in the darkness. But he knew that was his one chance to get it all out. 

“The whole time I just kept forgetting I was on a mission because I’d get wrapped up in you, in whatever thing you were saying or doing in that moment in time. I had to keep reminding myself that it was a job. It was killing me slowly. Honestly I’m happy you smacked me in the face with the frying pan because the whole week all of my suffering was internal and I just couldn’t– I was trying so hard to be a good vigilante.” The words spilled out of Jughead, in a complicated mess of thoughts he’d held too close to his heart over the last week. They stood in the darkness and he tried to keep his eyes trained on her, but it was hard, he wanted to look away, to pretend none of this ever happened. He didn’t know how to lie, but he didn’t know how to be honest either. Her blue eyes never wavered from his face as he spoke. 

“I was real the whole time, except for the whole ‘I’m also her capo’ thing, but was any of what you told me real?” She asked, nearly accusatory. He wanted to tell her to tear him to shreds again. 

“Almost everything, except for the whole struggling author part. I’m not struggling,” Jughead rocked back on his feet, “I am an author though. Don’t tell anyone.” 

“Oh?” Betty turned, and started walking back towards the trailer, “What do you write?” 

“Crime stories, from the point of view of a vigilante killer.” 

“That’s wild, where do you get your inspiration from?” 

“Well it all started in high school,” Jughead started, telling her of the early years of his writing addiction as he reached across into the darkness to grab her hand. 

She threaded her fingers in his.

_______

“Well, unlike you hoodlums, I have to get back to the real world,” Mom announced over breakfast, she shifted towards Betty and ran a careful hand down her ponytail, “will you be ok with these irresponsible gangsters?”

“Yeah,” Betty nodded, looking across the table towards FP, who somehow managed to constantly look at her mother like she was the mostly beautifully frustrating woman on the planet, and Jughead, who kept eating his eggs like nothing happened the night before. 

“Well all I need is my second in command–” 

“I just said I was leaving, FP,” Alice gritted out. 

“He’s talking about me,” Jughead said helpfully, looking up from his eggs to share one of his exhausted looks with Betty. 

“I was talking about him, but you don’t be a stranger. Just because you ran off to get married to some boring guy–” 

“Hey!” Betty broke in, trying to defend her father. Although he really had nothing on a secret community of vigilantes. 

“–and pop out a few babies, granted one of them turned out to be almost good enough to kick my son’s ass–”

“She wishes,” Jughead said through a big bite of toast. 

“– doesn’t mean you have to be a stranger. Drop us a line sometimes why don’t you? Or maybe if we have a job down in Long Island we’ll drop down to see you.” 

Betty doubted that the ‘we’ll’ meant any more than ‘I’ll.’ 

Betty didn’t understand the friendship between her mother and FP, but whatever it was seemed to have been rekindled with a stick of dynamite. She’d bet money that FP would find an excuse to go down to Long Island before the first leaf fell. 

“I’ll think about it.” Alice shot FP a coy look that Betty had never seen Alice send her father. 

“Weren’t you going to not leave until you got what you wanted?” Jughead asked, leaning back in his chair and holding his fork over his plate. 

“Oh, you sweet young thing, FP always gives me what I want.” Alice said. Betty choked on her orange juice as a look of disgust crossed Jughead’s face. “You call me if these heathens refuse to give you a ride into the city. And you wear a helmet!” Alice leaned down and pressed a kiss to Betty’s forehead, and spun her way out the door. 

“Alright, now you two kids behave yourself until the decision later. I’ve got to go drive out to Centerville to meet a contact.” FP stood up and for a moment seemed to debate pressing a kiss to Jughead’s forehead. He decided against it. 

And then there were two. 

Jughead stood up, taking his plate with him to the sink to let it clatter into it, “Don’t wash it Betty, I mean it,” He said as he disappeared into the bedroom. He reappeared a moment later with a flannel on and another one in his hands. 

“Now, I’ve got to do some recon, do you want to go down to the Pit with me or do you want to go hang out with Veronica at the Pembrooke?” 

The Pit was … everything. She was somehow exactly like everyone in there and yet still unique. She’d found her people and yet she hadn’t become one of them yet. She loved it there. 

And soon she’d never get to go back again. 

They’d carry out whatever job they’d agree on, and she’d never see Jughead again. As much as Veronica liked Archie, he’d taper out just like all of the flings did. And Betty would live with the knowledge that her people existed, somewhere nearby, in a pit under a biker bar. 

“I’ve been neglecting V a bit lately. I should go hang out with her.” Betty stood up and held out her hand, just as Jughead held up the flannel, the same way he had on their first un-date. 

Betty lost a beat of time as she realized what he was trying to do. Cautiously she took a step towards him, and stuck her arm into one sleeve, and then into another, he smoothed the fabric down along her back. The warmth of his hands sinking through the grey. 

Betty’s breath caught in her throat. Jughead leaned ever so slightly forward, his breath on her neck, “Betts…” 

“Yeah?” She asked, ready to do whatever he requested of her. 

“You can take the book today, I’ll be too busy to read.” 

Betty spun around and came face to face with his grin, the twinkle in his eye. 

_Don’t break first_.

“Sounds great. Can you give me a lift?”

_________

The problem with posing as a gang was that none of them could really do the greatest job in school without seriously risking their cover. There were a few well-educated Serpents, and even less college educated ones. FP was praised for how he managed to badger both of his children into a four year program, much to their kicking and screaming.

The result was typos. 

Lots and lots of typos. 

“We need remedial english courses here.” He muttered to himself as he spread out another file on FP’s desk. Even FP had marked this one up for grammatical problems, even though he frequently didn’t bother. FP was known for finishing a whole two years of college before dropping out to protect his cover. He had to go deep undercover in Chile to root out a serial killer picking off the homeless. 

The door swung open and his father strolled in, tossing his jacket on a chair and pretending not to care that his son was sitting in his chair. 

“Do I want to know why you’re here and not at home resting?” 

“For one, I’m totally fine. Doc signed me off. For two, you told me I could vote. I’m educating myself on the bosses Veronica asked for hits on.” 

“We’re not doing it. To take that many out at one time would require too much manpower and it’d leave a void in Manhattan the size of well… Manhattan. No way Jose.” FP sliced his hand down, and held on to his boss voice. Folding his arms across his gut. 

“Half of the bosses on the list are on _our_ list, and another half of those are on the FBI’s most wanted list. I think we can do a fair number of these.” 

“I said no, kid.” 

Jughead wasn’t sure if he trusted Veronica, but he knew that this was a prime opportunity. Not only to take down crime in Manhattan a notch, but also to get some dirt on Hiram Lodge that they wouldn’t be able to get anywhere else. 

Then again FP said jump and Jughead said: 

“I can do this Dad.” 

“Are you disobeying me, boy?” FP tilted his head, in the same way that he would just before laying into Jughead for skipping school or any number of offenses he committed as a teen. 

“I’m not disobeying you, I’m earning my stripes. Listen,” Jughead flipped the file closed and stood up, rising from FP’s seat. “When you got the Serpents, everyone thought you were crazy for accepting Northsiders, and now everyone thinks that Cheryl is the best thing that happened to us, and Archie isn’t far behind.”

“I’m still not sold on that Archie boy. I’m sure he’ll change his mind any day.” It was an old argument and easy enough for Jughead to ignore. 

“Ronnie is offering us dirt for if–” _when_ ”– Hiram Lodge fucks up. Three of these mob bosses are running trafficking rings and ruining the lives of people in the five boroughs. If we dismantle them in a swift enough move it’ll cause a shock to the system but we can play it off like a war between the three. No one will know we were involved. And the other mobs will be able to step up and fill the powervoid without the trafficking.” 

“You got a game plan for this?” FP asked. 

“Of course,” Jughead said, and waited for FP’s decision.

_____________

He burst into the pen, the bright light hitting his eyes as he saw his crew clustered near the ring. Veronica sat on the edge of the ring, her arms dangling over the ropes as she spoke to Toni.

Jughead made a beeline for her, he wanted to be the one to break the news to her, given their deep and inevitable friendship. 

“Veronica?” He prodded, getting her attention. Her eyes lit up, and he frowned, “I’m so sorry,” 

“What?” Veronica’s face crumbled. She slid out from under the ropes and stood up right, “I’m going to talk to your father right now–”

Jughead stopped her with his hand, “You’re going to have to write me a really big paycheck in two weeks and I need at least three million up front right now.” 

“You asshole! That’s not funny!” She slapped his arm as the Serpents burst into laughter around her. 

Jughead turned and looked at his crew, “Everyone, drop what you’re doing. We’re riding into Manhattan tonight.”

______________ 

Sunlight drifted down over the city as the motorcycles roared across the bridge. Betty’s arms were wrapped around his waist, wearing a plain black leather jacket to protect her from the elements.

Archie drifted behind, keeping an eye out for any trouble, even when he didn’t need to. Veronica had her head laid on his back, eyes closed as if she was doing nothing more than cuddling with her boyfriend. Toni and Cheryl were far ahead, living the life of the fast and wild. Sweet Pea and Fangs sped by each other, each of them brokering for first in a race that no one was watching. 

As they hit city lines they split up. Fangs and Sweet Pea going to their preferred crash pad. Toni and Cheryl heading to the Ritz. 

And the rest to the East Village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I ended up splitting the second chapter into two parts because it got really long with all the smut and fluff and fighting as a form of foreplay. Which means the rest is written! It just needs to be edited and then it shall be posted. Hopefully sometime later this week pending my social schedule. 
> 
> Shoutout to Sunlitgarden who beta'd this for me, and is also a constant ray of sunshine and textually held my hand as I watched the new season.


	3. Chapter 3

“Oh wow, your place is so cute,” Veronica said as the door opened, a smidgen too fast. 

“Did you guys break in?” Jughead asked, only because it’s exactly what he would’ve done. 

“Yes, your gun collection is impressive.” Betty nudged Jughead into the room, and sat on the couch, folding her legs underneath her. 

“While we’re telling the truth, I went through your things Archiekins and I don’t feel bad about it.” Veronica announced, as she walked into Archie’s room, Archie hot on her heels behind her. Whatever answer he had was swallowed up the by the door. 

“Are you mad at me for breaking in?”

“I’m going to let it slide under the ‘Brief Imposter Period’ clause,” Jughead leaned against the door frame and studied her on the couch that someone else picked out for him. The whole place had been furnished when he moved in, all he brought was his clothes and his pictures. 

Betty patted the couch next to her, Jughead pushed away from the wall, and went to sit down on the divot next to her. 

“Well I'm glad we’re moving past it.” 

Jughead couldn't agree more, he felt lighter now. There was no deceit on the table anymore, at least not as far as the two of them were concerned. He was still going to deceive Adams. 

“Alright, Archikins has his stuff, and Andre is on his way to pick us up. Are you coming with us Betty?” Veronica asked from the entranceway. 

“Um,” Betty’s eyes slid towards Jughead as Jughead realized what was happening. 

“Ronnie, Archie can't stay at your place tonight.” Jughead tried for his own stern voice, I'm the boss here. 

“Juggie, I thought we were past this? I already know that you're secret assassins, no longer do you have to protect Archie from sleeping with me and hurting my feelings,” Veronica grabbed her purse with both hands as Archie appeared in the doorway with her small suitcase and a bookbag of his own. 

“Yeah, plus I figured with the upcoming hit, maybe Ronnie needed more protection.” Jughead could see that Archie earnestly believed that. All the sex was just a side benefit. 

“She has two capos Archie, and one of them will have to sleep nearby because Adams will definitely have his eyes on the place and if either one of us starts sleeping over -” he added himself to be generous, but caught Betty’s glance out of the corner of his eye, “- then we have to be prepared for a call from Adams, and we don't have our ducks in a row yet.” 

“Won't it look like the four of us just took a trip upstate?” Veronica pushed, shifting her hips, “he didn't call then!”

“The boys left on their own, and I made sure to do evasive maneuvers before we broke into their apartment. I don't think Adams knows where we’ve been.” Betty came to his rescue. It was nice to have someone in his corner.

“I think you're onto something Jug.” Archie said, holding out his pointer finger, “If we slept over at the girls house we’d pull Adams out of the woodwork early. We’re not supposed to see him until Friday. And your Dad only gave you three weeks before he disbands the mission.” 

“What are you suggesting Archie?” 

“The girls go home tonight like they were on a two day spa trip or something upstate, and then tomorrow night we have a double date and crash there. He's going to call if he's eyeing us to follow up.” 

Jughead wanted to take a picture of this moment, frame it for all to see. He was so proud of his trainee. 

“Perfect. It’s a plan,” Jughead stood up, and started to walk out the room, he stopped to pat Archie’s shoulder, “But, you're not sneaking in tonight.” 

Archie’s face fell.

________

It didn't hit him until later what he agreed to. 

“You're going on a double sex date?” Toni’s question rang tinny down the line. He could almost imagine her sitting in a plush robe on a couch in the Ritz. Toni was at home by a trash fire or in the lap of luxury, but Jughead suspected she liked the lavish lifestyle her girlfriend insisted on. 

“It's not a double sex date,” Jughead denied, even as he realized it kinda was. “We’re just luring Adams out of the woodwork in a less obvious way.” 

“Hey babe!” Toni shouted, Jughead imagined her nails curling over the receiver, “Jughead and Archie are going on a double sex date!” 

Jughead couldn't hear Cheryl’s response, but from the long and lilting way she spoke he assumed that it was a solid burn on him. 

“It was Archie’s idea.” He muttered. 

Toni just laughed harder. 

Jughead gave up and hung up the phone, returning to his closet to pick out his outfit.

________

“Oh, my it seems we have a problem with your reservation, it was accidentally registered under two different tables,” the hostess frowned, looking up from her stand at the two couples before her. 

Jughead was staring at the side of Veronica’s face, as Veronica generously said, “oh no, that's totally fine, we’ll take the one closest to the window.” 

“You know we could just go to different restaurants,” Jughead said to Betty as they followed Veronica and Archie to their table. 

Betty pointed to herself and mouthed _capo._

 _Right._ And it clicked. Everywhere they went Betty sat where she could keep an eye on Veronica.

As the hostess sat them, Jughead turned in his seat and saw that, sure enough, Betty had a clear line to the back of Archie’s head. The hostess disappeared to get a spare wine menu.

“So the whole time, I was laying my best game, you had one eye on Archie and you were going to do what? Leap across the place and punch him?” Jughead leaned on the back of his chair as he asked, studying Betty who smiled up at him. 

Betty stroked the silverware, a fingertip resting on the sharp steak knife that jutted out from its peers, Jughead sat heavily in his seat before he could react too outwardly to that.

He was saved from talking by the hostess appearing. She ran down a quick introduction to the wine before disappearing again. 

Jughead tried to come up with something, anything to change the subject. But instead he shifted in his seat, and reminded himself that _this isn't hot._

“So you're just ready to throw a knife across a room and kill a guy at a moment’s notice?” 

“Or seriously maim, depending on the context.” Betty hid her smile in a glass of water. Jughead clenched his fist against his thigh under the table. 

_This is not hot_ he sternly told himself. 

He was never really good at lying.

________

“You've never told me your story,” Jughead finally managed to say after an hour of trying to find the right time. He certainly didn't want to cut their conversation about the book they'd been sharing short. Then she'd segued into telling him about her years of working towards a degree in journalism. 

“My story?” Betty’s shoulders pivoted ever so slightly towards him as they walked. It was warm enough that even Jughead had forgone his flannel. But he still missed the sight of it on her shoulders. 

“Yeah, if you wanted to be a reporter like your parents, how did you end up a capo?” Jughead checked again that no one could hear them on the relatively empty street.

“Well, being a reporter for me turned out to be…Dangerous.” As she spoke she kept her eyes fixed on Veronica’s back in front of them, tilting her head ever so slightly. 

“You throw knives with deadly accuracy and can keep up in a fistfight with an assassin, how would writing a report be dangerous?” He trusted her to keep him from walking into a lamp post or a fire hydrant. He couldn’t help but study her face for clues. 

“Not me, for the people I wrote about they tended to uh…” Betty clasped her hands in front of her and turned towards him, “judgement free zone? They tended to die.”

Jughead supposed that if they were normal people that should be shocking, horrifying even. Jughead couldn't point any fingers. “You’ve killed people?” 

“Not me, no. It's a long story, basically every lead I followed ended in a body when I was in high school.” Satisfied he wasn’t judging her, she faced forward again, her hair swinging with the motion, as she tried to downplay the bodycount. “My mom was worried.” 

“So she started to train you?” A picture of a young Viper in training was starting to come together. Take a snake from it’s nest but it still had venom. Maybe everyone who was born in Riverdale was fated to someday become an assassin. That’s why Cheryl and Archie joined up. Maybe someday a Keller would join their ranks – or even a McCoy. 

“The training started before. When my sister …” Jughead watched her struggle to find the words. “My teen years were hard, and I needed an outlet. Then I was too ambitious as a reporter, following leads that were dangerous. Mom already let me have the tattoo by then.” 

“So how'd she reign you in?” 

“The same way she reigned in Polly, she sent me away, very briefly, an elite private school where she thought nothing would happen because everyone had their own private bodyguards.” 

“Let me guess, something happened.” 

“Yeah, Nick St. Clair broke his arm in a tragic accident and I made a friend for life.” Betty lifted her hand towards Veronica’s back. “She covered for me.”

“And got a capo for life?” 

“You could say that,” Betty dropped her hands down and let them swing, reaching across the distance between them. Her hand curled around his, his fingers threaded between hers.

________

Betty cast quick glances at Jughead as Veronica gave the boys a tour of their apartment. She wondered what he made of the modern touches in the vintage space, or if he picked up on the subtle hints of her personality mixed in with the strong overture of Veronica’s. She had a feeling he definitely picked up on how abbreviated the tour was compared to the usual long and detailed one she’d make Betty suffer through. 

The tour usually ended in drinks, but Veronica took a different tactic when they got close to her own room. 

“I hope you two have a lovely night!” Veronica managed to say as she led Archie away. 

Jughead shifted his whole body towards her, his hand reaching out to grab hers again, “They couldn’t get away from us fast enough.”

“Clearly,” Betty led him to her own door, her heart beating fast in her chest. They haven’t even _kissed_. They’ve spoken at length about who they are as people, but not who they were together. She tried to shove her qualms aside as she shoved the door open. It was just a mission after all. A red herring for Adams to bite on. 

“So this is where the great Betty Cooper lays her head.” 

Betty looked at her room and tried to see what he saw, to her it was just her room. A four poster bed with fairy lights strung around the top dominated the room between two large windows. Stacks of books lined built in shelves, and a well-loved desk was kept immaculately clean. 

“That it is, there’s that, for you.” Betty gestured towards the clothes neatly folded at the edge of the bed. “Veronica realized that since we were committing to the whole ‘oh no this just happened’ aspect instead of planning it out that you might not have a change of clothes.”

Betty walked backwards towards her ensuite bathroom, “I’ll get changed in there, take your time.” 

In the bathroom, she got ready quickly. The unsexy aspects of a sleepover included brushing the Chicken Marsala (and the bite of his Risotto) off her teeth. Even though it was bad for her skin, she didn’t quite yet take off her makeup. 

She leaned against the door, taking a deep breath before knocking, “you decent in there?” 

“Yeah.” 

She pushed open the door as Jughead tossed his phone onto the bed. He stood wearing flannel pants and an S t-shirt that Betty had painstakingly found on Blamazon when they’d gotten home the night before. The company had delivered the outfit within an hour. 

“You look good.” 

“You know, I don’t think Veronica saw me in my pajamas in Riverdale.” Jughead pointed out, his hands finding their natural shelf on his hips. It had been Veronica’s suggestion to get Jughead some clothes, even though it’d fallen to Betty to follow her orders. 

Betty shrugged, sitting on the edge of her bed. His phone was lighting up with the same message from each member of his crew. 

“Check?” She parroted, as Fangs sent the message. 

“Just making sure no one has been murdered in their beds, the only one who hasn’t responded is Archie.” A loud moan came from down the hall, “and I know exactly where he is. Are they allergic to conversations or something?”

Betty tried not to smile at that, shifting back on her bed to settle into her usual position. Jughead stayed standing for a moment, in the center of her room, looking at her as if he wasn’t sure what to do next. He fiddled with the edge of his shirt before pointing towards the bathroom. 

“I guess I’ll go brush my teeth.” His Risotto and a bite of her Chicken Marsala. 

Betty watched him cross the room. 

She wished she could burst into Veronica’s room and ask for advice. Veronica’s last bit of advice was resting against her skin below her dress. She’d ordered it the same time she’d ordered the pajamas, and felt it was presumptuous. 

They hadn’t even kissed yet. 

Sure their conversation was always stimulating, and their sparring was … something unparalleled. But Jughead had been letting her make all the first moves, and while she appreciated it, there was a part of her that worried that he’d rather not. 

“Alright, I’m cleaned up and ready for bed. Where am I sleeping?” Jughead asked from the doorway to the bathroom. 

Betty reached out and patted the side of her bed that forever remained unoccupied. 

“Are you sure? There’s no couch somewhere that I can crash on?” Jughead asked, and she tried to bolster her courage. 

“Like a good friend of mine once said,” she dropped her tone to mimic his, “‘I can think of better sleeping arrangements.’”

At his look of shock, her confidence faltered, “Or if you’d rather, I can put you on the couch in the living room, you’d just be able to hear the show better.” 

“No,” Jughead gingerly stepped around the bed to sit next to her, “I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t invading your space.” 

“You’re not.” Betty watched as he put his beanie on the nightstand table, and wondered what it would be like if he always put his beanie on her night stand table. She banished the thought as soon as it entered her mind, _no sense in getting your hopes up._

“Lights,” she said clearly, with years of practice. The lights turned off, and the fairy lights changed to a dim glow around her bed. She shuffled further under the covers, facing him. 

“You guys are so loaded,” Jughead said with a disbelieving snort. 

“Says the guy with a bunker under his hometown bar.” 

“It’s not mine. We just work there.” 

Work, his work. It’s a topic that still interests her too much. The Serpents and all they stand for are new and exciting, but she keeps getting pulled back to certain questions. Certain moments where they shared long looks before she realized that he was an assassin in disguise and he realized she was more than just a best friend. 

“Jughead, can I ask you a question?” After all, if not in the darkness of her room, under her comforters, when would they get around to it?

“Shoot,” he said, in an easy tone, but she can see in the dim glow of the light how his shoulders are more tense than they were before. 

“Do you think, that if you had been walking down the street with Archie, and he’d tripped and had his little moment with Ronnie, that anything would’ve been different?” 

Neither of them breathe for a moment, the question is out there. The poison in her veins is now between them. If all that is bringing them together is this one case, then she has nothing to keep him here in the bed. 

“I mean not completely.” Jughead hedges. 

“What do you think would be different?” Her feelings boil in her chest, waiting to take shape, will it be hope, sadness, misery? 

“Well for one, there’s no way I would’ve kept Archie from sleeping with Veronica that first night. And I don’t know what that would’ve done for their relationship–” its a breath of relief. That’s afterall a _Varchie_ problem as Veronica had coined them, and Betty was worried about _Bughead_ “–as for us, I don’t know. I probably would’ve stalked you a little less on the internet.” 

Betty smirked in the darkness. 

“No, you're right I still would’ve stalked you the same amount.” 

“So you don’t think anything would’ve changed?” In a way she feels relief. Everything happened as it was meant to. They could start where they were, it wasn’t perfect but it was something. 

“Not exactly.” 

Her feelings shifted ever so slightly closer to concern, worry. She propped her head up on her fist, looking down at him. He’s wearing a half smile as if he’s concerned she’ll yell at him for what he’ll say next. 

“Then what?” 

“I definitely would’ve kissed you on the Empire State Building.” He said it like a confession, whispered quickly and furtively. The breath of relief becomes lungfuls of air that she’s gasping in. She had no idea what she wanted from him when she asked, but as always, he said the exact right thing. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, I uh, didn’t want to kiss you when I was lying to you, but I obviously very much wanted to kiss you. It was a real Catch-22 of kissing. Followed by the stupidest thing I’ve ever said to a woman.” 

Her chest filled with nothing but joy. Rays and rays of joy and happiness, and every feeling she wished she could bottle for a rainy day. 

“I definitely think the stupidest thing you’ve ever said to a woman is when you implied to my mother that you’d let her know if you jacked off in the shower while thinking of me.” 

“I can’t respond to that without incriminating myself.” 

Betty laughed, feeling free. Jughead was in her bed, smiling up at her and letting her know about his tortured affection towards her. An idea forms in her mind. 

“Hey Jug, do you want to do something before we go to sleep?”

_______ 

The heat of the day had given away to a brisk summer evening. The door clanged open as Betty led him onto the roof. Fairy lights strung between poles illuminating furniture that big box stores sold cheap imitations of. It wasn't exactly the Empire State Building- hell they couldn't even see the Empire State Building- but it was a rooftop, and they were alone on it. 

Betty led him to the railing and she leaned against it, letting him brace his arms on either side of her. She crossed her arms behind his neck and smiled up at him, “so what were we talking about?” 

“How Veronica is a walking target for hit men and bounty hunters,” Jughead remembered the conversation too clearly. 

“That's not what we talked about all night though,” Betty cast a thoughtful look upwards, and Jughead couldn't wait to recall what book they'd been discussing or what they'd been rallying against. 

He just needed to be kissing her. 

He crossed the narrow space between them to press his lips against hers. She melted into his arms, threading her fingers through his hair as they smiled into each other. 

He pulled away and her eyes lit up. 

“Faulkner! I was telling you about this article I read on Faulkner-” 

“You were thinking about Faulkner during our moment?” 

Betty didn't respond, she just kissed him again.

_______ 

Jughead’s self discipline was usually only lacking when it came to food, but he's man enough to admit that he should've crawled out of Betty’s bed an hour earlier to go do work. It's just that Betty let him hit a base (although Jughead is manly enough to also admit that his understanding of the bases is lacking at best, and he's not sure how to quantify making out and light groping as he so rarely finds himself in a situation where it happens) and he doesn't want to leave the warmth of her bed. There he stood, fully dressed on the threshold of the her room, trying to get himself to leave.

But there are bad bad men who are looking for a bullet in their heads and it's Jughead’s job to make sure they get what's coming to them. 

“Juggie?” 

Betty’s sleep-addled voice gave him a moment of swift indecision. Someone else could kill the bad men right? 

“Why are you up?” She asked, and like a siren he was called to the edge of her bed where she rolled onto her back, rubbing her eyes to blink up at him. 

“I gotta go get some work done,” he gave her arm what hoped was a reassuring stroke, “go back to sleep.” 

“Stay,” Betty mumbled, curling her fingers around his, for a beat he thought about it. 

“I gotta go, text me okay?” He leaned forward, unable to resist kissing her soft lips just one more time. Betty’s hands threaded through his hair, knocking off his cap. It tumbled to the floor in the darkness.

“Oh no,” she said, sighing with contentment when he pulled away, “you have to stay in the ring until another contender appears.” 

That wasn't how the rules worked, but his files waited an hour, they could wait another five minutes.

_______ 

They'd been sitting on the files for years, waiting for the right time to make their move. The hasty years of the Serpents were behind them all, and difficult lessons had been learned. Jughead has sat in the corner of the war room for years hearing what happened when they moved too fast or too quickly against a target. They had to play the part of a pawn to keep themselves on the board, slowly but surely wiping out their enemies. 

The end result was that Jughead had years of Intel to help him make his decisions. He'd send Cheryl and Toni up into Yonkers to take out the boss up there. The man’s headquarters was in a patch of Forest where Cheryl’s weapon of choice would fit in perfectly. Fangs and Sweet Pea would be sent to the depths of the Bronx to free a ring of girls there. He'd take himself and Archie to a high rise in the heart of Manhattan - rooting out a boss who hid in the financial district. 

Adams’ boss was the as of yet unknown piece of the puzzle that would soon fall into place. The six of them would go after that piece together. 

Then he'd get paid and put this job behind him. 

A twinge settled in his chest, he rubbed his neck that Betty had kissed not two hours earlier.

Hopefully not all of the job would be left behind.

__________ 

When Jughead hits a certain point of hating anyone who has ever refused to learn the difference between “their” and “they're” he orders pizza. On that particular job it takes a while to get there, partially bolstered by the unusually good night, but he hits it nonetheless. 

The door buzzes thirty minutes later, and Jughead pulled on a tank top to preserve a sense of decency. Archie has clearly committed to the ‘sticking close to the mark’ aspect of their con, which only helps Jughead focus. Just in case, Jughead grabbed a gun, and held it behind the door as he opened it. 

“Pizza delivery?” Betty asked, holding out the pies with a smile. 

“Well, I seem to have forgotten the tip money somewhere,” Jughead said, trying to keep a straight face as he tucked his gun into his waistband. She kept her eyes trained on his face, but he knew she saw it. 

“Oh, I’m sure you can make it up to me somehow,” Betty stepped into the apartment and kissed him gently, his heart fluttering in his chest. “Sorry for invading your research space but if I listened to Veronica shout _right there Archie!_ one more time I was going to snap.”

“I was just about to take a break from researching anyways,” Jughead took the pizzas away from her and led her into the living room, moving the gun to a safer location on a side table. 

“Where’s everyone else?” Betty asked, looking around the room at all the piles of folders. 

“I dunno, Cheryl is probably trying to convince Toni to go shopping. Fangs has his bakeries that he likes to go visit. And Sweet Pea hits up the MOMA.” Jughead cleared the seat next to his own, carefully moving the piles onto the table, and clearing a spot to open the box. 

“No one is doing research with you?” Betty pointed towards the food, “That’s a lot of pizza for one man.” 

“Don’t comment on what I eat, I’m not always Dainty Date Jughead.” Jughead kept his tone light to let her know that he wasn’t offended. 

“There’s nothing dainty about how you eat on dates Jughead,” Betty hesitated as he offered the box to her, “Are you sure I’m not crashing your solo afternoon?” 

“Betty, take a slice of pepperoni, this place is amazing.” Jughead decided to cut out the uncertainty and pull out the slice himself, putting it on a paper towel and handing it to her, “I went here after a job when I was 16 and man it’s just so good.” 

Jughead pulled his own slice out and took a bite, before looking over at Betty, who was just chewing on her own lip instead of the pizza. 

“Unless you aren’t hungry?” He asked. 

“No,” Betty took a bite, chewed and swallowed, all with a look of intense concentration, “but sixteen?” 

“It was a recon mission Betts. I rode my bike down here, pretended to be lost for a few hours to tag some drug dealers, went home.” Jughead took another bite of the pizza, relishing the warmth of the cheese and the burst of flavor. It was really the best slice in Manhattan, “they don’t let you do hits until you’ve done a few recon missions and lower level things first.” 

Satisfied, Betty took another bite, he kept watching her face, waiting. She smiled and held up a hand to her mouth, “it’s good.” 

“Good? That’s all you’ve got to say?” 

“Fine it’s great, but there’s this place in Brooklyn–” 

“Oh Betty, Betty,” Jughead shook his head, “none of the places in Brooklyn are ever good, they’re just expensive.” 

“Well, after this job you’ll have to let me buy you a slice, and then we’ll see who is right.” 

_After this job_

Jughead smiled, and took another bite of the best pizza in Manhattan.

_______ 

“That’s it, you’re done?” Betty asked as Jughead tucked away the files in the saddlebags that would be brought back to Riverdale. 

“Yep, done, now I get to kill time until Agent Adams calls us and demands his intel on Hiram.” Jughead sat back on the couch, wondering if he should’ve done a better job of hiding the research from Betty. “Then I’ll call a massive team meeting and we’ll just go through all the ins and outs at one time.” 

“So what do you and Archie do when you’re waiting to do a job?” Betty folded her legs underneath herself, shifting to face him. He almost wanted to point out that they could do something completely different as she was not Archie, but instead he tried to remember the long ago days when it was just him and his bestie. 

“Well, sometimes I write and he plays music. Sometimes we play video games, sometimes we spar–” she sat a little straighter at that, a nearly imperceptible shift. “Do you like sparring?” 

“Um, not usually. Normally I just have my bag,” she looked around the room, “where do you guys even do it?” 

“Well, Betty, when you work for a secret organization–” in for a penny, in for a pound. Jughead shoved himself off the couch and moved towards the far wall. He slid his fingers along the chair rail, until he felt the hook, he curled his finger into it and pulled. The door popped slightly open, it took a slight amount of elbow grease to get it to open all the way. 

“You have a secret room in your living room?” Betty walked into the space, stepping around him into the midday sunlight. 

“Well, technically Betty, it’s the dining room. We just refurbished it and hid the door.” He pointed towards the windows, “The glass is reflective, and the floor is bamboo or something like that. Archie is in training and I’m trying to teach him how to anticipate moves. It was one of Dad’s requirements that any space that we move into has a training space because technically Archie is way past the acceptable age.” 

Betty frowned, rubbing her arms, “He’s only what? Twenty-four?” 

“We start at sixteen.” Jughead shrugged, and leaned against a built in shelf that held tape and supplies, “Dad almost killed me when he found out that Archie knew.” 

Betty studied the room, her blue eyes taking in everything about the space. It didn’t take too long for her eyes to drift to him, her eyes were very nearly hooded, as she looked more past him than directly at him. 

“Do you want to have a rematch?” 

He thought about it, the two of them, here in his home, fighting alone in a space that no one else could see them in. 

“Definitely.”

_______ 

His oldest sweats were baggy on her, but she made it work, tying the cord as tightly as she could manage as he pretended not to watch her out of the corner of his eye. Jughead sat on the floor, wrapping up his hands. Almost nervously, she fiddled with the tie again, before he looked up at her, “They’ll stay up, trust me. They’ve stayed up during some pretty intense fights.” 

“If you say so,” Betty came to sit in front of him, crossing her legs so her knees almost met his. “What are you doing?” 

“This protects my hands from getting bruised and broken, and in an actual fight would hurt you more.” He finished the tie on one hand and held out his hands for hers. Trusting, although he’s given her no reason to be, she stuck her hands out quickly, allowing him to run his fingers over them before he mirrored the process. 

Jughead kept his concentration on her hands, he didn’t even do this for Archie. It felt strangely intimate to wrap up someone’s hands so that they could better hit him. He wasn’t sure what he’d see in her eyes or if he’d even like it. One hand done, he flipped the other hand to begin and saw four half moon marks on her palms. He hesitated, for the briefest of moments, before he began again. 

“You’re not going to ask?” Betty’s voice sounded calm, even. 

“Do you want me to?” Jughead knew scars could be a sensitive topic, more so self inflicted ones. Not everyone was Sweet Pea waiting for the right moment to say _I got this one at …_

“Before I trained, it’s how I relieved stress.” Betty said, simply. Leaving the implications to fall between them in the narrow space they left. Jughead waited until both of her hands were wrapped, before bringing them together, and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

“I’m glad you found a better way to relieve stress,” he said, hoping it was the right thing, she smiled and shifted forward, kissing him. He counted that as a mark of approval. 

“Now, it’s time for me to kick your ass for real, no interruptions,” Betty said as soon as she sat all the way back down. 

“Alright you can try. We’re not doing gauntlet rules, but we do have to go easy on each other because I have to kill some people in the next few days and that’s always a bit taxing. Body hits only, half force. Whoever ends up on their back first to the count of three, alright?” Jughead stood up, offering a hand to Betty. She took it, leveraging herself up to her feet. 

“Are you sure you want to keep your shirt on this time Juggie?” Betty asked, smiling at him, “I mean, it might help to distract me if you took it off.” 

“Nice try Betty, but when I kick your ass it’s going to be fair and square.” Jughead tossed the roll into the corner of the room and took a step back to the corner that he usually started in. The summer sun beating down on his back as he lifted his fists. 

She mirrored his stance, stepping towards Archie’s corner where his Bulldogs paraphernalia reigned supreme. 

“Come on Betty, we’re not going to do the whole, waiting for each other to throw the first punch thing again are we?” Jughead asked, as they started to circle, slowly, taking steps around the room. 

“No, apparently you think that it’s still a good idea to goad people, even though your face still looks awful sweetie,” butterflies floated in his chest as Betty lunged. He ducked and aimed a punch for the side she left vulnerable, but she whacked his hand away like it was nothing. 

_Nope, not hot_

“Well, _babe_ , you just proved my point,” he aimed a swipe at her that she dodged, and she responded with a few swipes of her own that had him taking big steps back into his own corner. A high kick had him rolling under her leg and popping back up in Archie’s corner, his fists back at the ready. 

“Nice roll Juggie,” Betty tilted her head, grinning, “I didn’t know tumbling was part of the assassin skill-set.” 

“You never know what you need from kindergarten until you use it,” Jughead did a quick foot-step that had her laughing. He used the distraction to his advantage and lunged at her, but she’d anticipated it, and pulled him forward, taking him off his balance and flinging him backwards. Before he knew it she had him in a hold, with him flat on his back. 

“One –” and he broke away, turning the tables to roll her over, he didn’t even get a count out when she was on her back before she hooked her leg around his and flipped them back over. 

Jughead’s mind was spiraling away, trying to find ways to get the upper hand, to get her on her back again, when she straddled his waist and held him down by his arms. 

Then something else entirely spiraled away. 

He stopped fighting back, and just laid there, and hoped she wouldn’t scoot too far back lest he embarrass himself while fighting her. Again. 

(Hopefully this time in a way that no one would find out about). 

The smile on Betty’s face dropped away and she sat back, her hands stroking down his arms, “are you okay? Did I hurt you?” 

“Nope, you won fair and square, look at me, I’m on my back, now if you don’t mind I’m going to go–” 

“Jug, you’re being weird, what happened are you ok?” Betty leaned forward and trapped his arms again, studying his face with concern. 

Jughead couldn’t very well say _I seem to be getting a boner_ now could he? Instead he rolled them and stood up, hoping that loose fabric of his pants would help him out. 

“Yeah, I’m totally fine, let’s go eat more pizza.” Jughead tried to walk as quickly towards the door as possible, hoping the ways his hands were draped looked casual at the very least. 

“So now that we’ve kissed you’re just going to let me win?” Betty stood up, brushing off dust as she did so. 

Jughead froze in the doorframe and turned around, “I didn’t let you win, you won.” Jughead shrugged. 

“Jughead, it’s not fun if you’re not going to fight me for real.” 

Jughead wasn’t sure why the woman he had a _thing_ with demanding a fair fight was hot, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. 

Except the same thing he did in every fight. 

“Alright best two out of three.” He said, and as she nodded he kicked at her legs, trying to swipe her off the floor. It didn’t work. She used her hands to spring back up and hit out at him. 

This time there was no playful banter, just the two of them, trying to anticipate each other’s moves as they danced around the ring. Blows landed, blows were parried, kicks were aimed, and before long Jughead had Betty on her back, this time he held her down, his hands clasping her arms and his leg against her stomach. 

And before he could say something smug she gasped, not the gasp he’d heard thousands of times before in fights between friends and enemies. 

A gasp he’d heard the night before when he slid his hand under her shirt. 

His eyes locked with hers, a smirk landing on his face. 

“Well it looks like we got tripped up by the same thing,” he said, “which puts us one to one.” 

“Shut up and let me go Juggie.” 

He figured that he finally found himself in a situation where a safe word was necessary with no safe word set up. He let her go, his hands detaching and his leg shifting to the far side. 

Another tease was on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn’t sure what to say. Betty’s eyes burned into him as he shifted, sitting up. As he sat up Betty followed him, she reached for what she loved best, his hair, threading her fingers to pull him back down again to where she wanted him. 

She kissed him, but it wasn’t like the kisses they’d shared in the darkness of her room the night before. They were fierce and passionate, almost as if their fight was continuing in a new style. 

_Round three; Begin_

Jughead shoved at her shirt, and she pulled it over her head, giving him new skin to run his mouth over, to feast upon. Betty ground down, letting out a hitching moan in his ear as he groaned. After the last few days of tension and confusion, Jughead wasn’t sure how long he could last. He wasn’t sure long he wanted to last. Her moans were a symphony to his ears and the fat lady was going to sing entirely too soon. 

He definitely wished he hadn’t wrapped up his hands. Only his fingertips could feel how smooth her skin was, and he wanted to feel her everywhere. Since his hands couldn’t do justice to her chest, he bent his head to hers, kissing whatever exposed skin he could reach as the breathless hitch of her voice rang in his ears. He shoved the old sweats down, and they made a liar of him, giving away easily at the first sign of struggle. Betty helped, leaning back and struggling out of the pants and her underwear, he got a flash of blue nestled in the gray of his sweats and then there was nothing but the pink of her skin. 

He tried to lean her back, so that he could feast on the new skin, but she shoved him back instead, straddling his lap again. Returning to her grinding ways, sparks began to pool his gut, climbing their way through his nervous system. 

“Betty, I –” he tried to start, but instead he shifted her hips back and she whimpered, _whimpered_ as if dry humping his dick through his sweats was the best thing that ever happened to her. 

“Jughead are you trying to kill me?” She asked. To which he wanted to say _you started it_.

“But only in a good way,” Jughead shot back, and swiped his finger down her heat, shocked to find her _soaked_ , “Betty, you’re so fucking –” 

“Juggie!” She said in a demanding voice, cutting him off. He wasn’t sure what she was exactly demanding, but he gave it his best shot and stroked her again, wishing he hadn’t brought the wrap so far up his fingers. Apparently that was exactly what she wanted, as she moaned his name again and twisted her arms behind his head, pulling him in for another punishing kiss. Jughead tried to feel as much of her as he could, with his fingers taped up above the knuckles, and it was enough to have her writhing between his legs. His thumb sought something more, and he knew he found it when her back arched and she stopped kissing him, letting out something between a moan and a squeak. 

“Are you going to cum for me Betty?” He asked, and apparently this was the wrong thing to ask, as Betty’s eyes snapped open and she glared at him. 

“You first,” She shot back, tugging down his sweats with one hand and smacking away his hand with another. The wrap against his skin had him wincing and Betty frowned apologetically but didn’t let the hiccup stop her. She nudged his shoulders down, his sweaty skin sticking to the floor in the way it had hundreds of times before but this time far more better than any of the others. She swung her leg over his thighs and shifted slightly, experimentally rocking back and forth on his dick, wet heat to hot skin. 

Jughead groaned and arched his back, ignoring the look of stunning victory on Betty’s face. She could win, she could take every trophy, he didn’t care he just wanted –

She rocked again and Jughead clutched her thighs, his hands digging into her tight muscles. The S of her tattoo peeking between his fingers. 

“Betty are you the one trying to kill _me_?” He asked, or more whined really. 

“I’ve wanted to get my hands on you for a while now, and I had to feel you in some way,” Betty said, as if A plus B equaled C. She rocked again and he made the mistake of looking down, to see where the head of his cock was catching on her folds. 

For the first time in his life Jughead was okay with losing. 

Betty shifted, sitting upright and positioning him. Warning bells went off in his head, they were skipping a step. 

“Wait hold on, shouldn’t we grab a condom or something? Archie has some probably.” The ones he had probably expired at some point. He wouldn’t know. 

“I’m on the pill and clean, you?” Betty asked, poised over his dick. 

“Well, I’m not on the pill–” Betty leveled a look at him that had him smiling “–but I am clean.” 

And she sank on him. 

Jughead always wondered what heaven felt like. And apparently it felt like sinking into Betty as bamboo stuck to his back and sun beat down on them both. She was warm and tight as made a noise close to a whimper that had him clutching at her arm. Once she settled down, she shifted her legs, her feet moving to help her get purchase as she set a rhythm. Jughead helped as best as he could, his hands going to her hips, helping her keep the pace. 

Her chest had been neglected for far too long in his opinion and he sat back up, lavishing kisses wherever he could reach, catching her mouth every so often. 

She caught his face in her hands, the rough wrap against his skin as she smiled at him. He kissed her again, cradling her butt in his hands and wishing for the millionth time that they’d gone without, or at least with one of the fast release wraps. 

Betty’s pace began to falter, and Jughead sensed her weakness then. He rolled her onto her back, and kicked the pace up a notch, his hand slipping between them to find her clit again, determined that she’d come first. She kept choking out variations of his name, Jughead would be choking out her name if he could take his mouth off her collarbone for just one second. 

Her legs tightened around his waist, as he cradled her thigh with one hand, keeping her as close as possible as he rocked into her. The pace was still as punishing as he could handle, his thumb insistent on her clit. 

“Betty,” he said, pulling away, looking into her eyes. How’d he only known her for a week? “You gotta cum now.” 

“You’re not –” she bit off a moan, tugging his hair hard enough to make him see double and somehow speed him across the finish line all at once, “my boss, Juggie.” 

“You gotta cum for me Betts or else I can’t cum in you,” he said and she bit her lip. Another weak spot, shining right there. “Betty, let me fill you up.” He kissed her again, or tried to anyways, catching her in another moan as she tightened around him. 

Jughead didn’t know why he thought he could outlast Betty moaning his name under him, clenching around him, pulling him down to her. He definitely couldn’t. In trying to push all of her buttons first, he’d accidentally hit his own. He came with a shout, into the collarbone he’d marked up with enough hickeys to make her seem like a leopard. He emptied into her, as promised. 

He tried not to collapse on top of her, but her legs stayed around his waist, her arms shifted around his back. 

“Betty, I’ll crush you,” Jughead tried to explain, doing his best to roll off while somehow, staying exactly where he was. 

“So be it.” She muttered, her wrapped hand slipping under his shirt to rub against his back. He winced against her shoulder, and she shifted to just her fingertips, running patterns on his back. 

He pressed another kiss into her shoulder, before reaching down with his hand and dislodging her thigh so he could sit up, holding her legs to his side. He felt faintly ridiculous, still mostly dressed as Betty lay before him in nothing but a bra. She nudged his chest with a knee, with a smile, catching his hand in the crook of her leg. It made him smile, almost goofily so, he was pretty sure his brain was no longer in his head, or even in the apartment. The nudge brought the green of her tattoo close to his eyes, drawing his gaze down her legs. It only took a slight bit of contortion to press a kiss to her Serpents. His gaze continued down and –

 _They were going to ruin the floor_ Jughead thought. And immediately wondered why he cared. Sweet Pea had done worse to the supplies closet. 

As the only cloth in the vicinity was Jughead’s pants, he did the only reasonable thing he could think of, he scooped Betty into his arms, so she sat in his lap. She looked as content as a lawyer who had won an incredibly complicated case, or a detective who had been right all along about a double crossing agent. A smug sort of contentment. He wrapped his arms around her back and kissed her, as gently as he could, wondering if his face had the same smug look. 

“So,” Jughead said, when Betty pulled back, “Who won that one?” 

Betty smirked at him, “I kinda think we both did.”

_______ 

Betty was usually the type of girl who muttered better safe than sorry while pulling a condom out of her purse. Which meant the messy but not altogether unlikeable sensation between her legs was a relatively novel one. 

Her arms still hurt from where she’d blocked him, her thighs had a dual tension from the muscles used during sex and the muscles used to kick. Her back still smarted from where it slammed into the floor, the hickeys on her chest left her feeling warm. 

She felt somehow used and cherished all at once. She wanted to ask Jughead how he felt, but he’d insisted on cradling her in his arms. 

When was the last time she asked a guy what his recovery time was? When was the last time she cared? She glanced down, still impressive, still soft. She lifted her head and pressed a kiss to where his hair met the smooth skin of his face. He had such great hair, his beanie was probably to keep random women from walking up to him and running their fingers through his hair. 

“Juggie,” Betty said softly, Jughead shifted back, holding her in his arms as he lifted a brow towards her, “do you want to move to your bed?” 

She meant that they could walk over there together, but he stood up, taking her with him, in one casual move that had her shrieking with laughter.

“Did you think I was going to put you down?” He asked, holding her to his stomach as he fixed his pants around himself. She wanted to point out that it was _no fair_ but that was what round two was for. 

“How silly of me, of course you were going to caveman carry me the twenty feet to your bed,” Betty said with as much reproach as she could muster and a grin on her face. 

“I’m not putting you down until I have to.” Jughead said, slightly possessively. He proved it by bending over, taking her with him, as he reached down and grabbed his hat, shoving it back on his head. 

Betty considered for a moment stealing it, but it clearly mattered to him. Instead she reached up and tapped his cheek. He took the hint and shifted his face, smile and all, towards her, and let her kiss him. 

“You should definitely never let me go,” Betty held onto his shoulders as he moved with a little more intent, taking them towards the bedroom. She wants to say, _for real Jug, even after this job, never let me go,_ but instead she runs a hand up and down his arm, careful to keep to the fingertips as he doesn’t seem to like the wrap very much. 

He nudged the door shut with his foot, and carried her halfway across the living room. He carried her as if the world revolved around her. His brow is furrowed again, as if he’s adding up all sums of an equation in his head. Analyzing the angles on a hit. 

He stopped at the edge of his living room and fixed his searching eyes on hers. 

“Can I?” He asked. 

Betty tilted her head, feeling her lopsided ponytail flop too far as she did so . 

“Can you what Jug?” 

“Even after this job is done…” the concentration gave way to a smile, a private one that she’d seen across candle lit dinners and fighting rings. “Can I hang on to you?” 

Betty bit her lip, the decision already made far before he ever even ventured the question. 

“Of course Juggie.” She sealed the promise with a kiss, one they both grinned into, her heart fluttering in the process. 

She pulled away, and tapped the corner of his cheek smiling, before holding up her finger, “you just have to do one more thing for me.” 

“And what might that be?” Jughead asked with a sigh. 

“I know you’re not into the wraps, but I very much am, so if you could just –” She didn’t even finish her request, before he ran his wrapped knuckles as best as he could between her legs. Her hand clutched his hair, grabbing his hat out of shock and flinging it somewhere. 

“I might have to set you down for that though,” Jughead warned her. 

“So be it.”

____________ 

Watching Jughead yawn as he struggled to undo the knots that he tied on the inside of her wrist an hour earlier was quite possibly the most endearing thing Betty had seen - at least in the last ten minutes since they stumbled into the room. He’d managed to cut one of her hands free in the kitchen, where she’d finally managed to give him the handjob she’d been thinking about giving him for a week – like some sort of sexually frustrated cheerleader. He’d abandoned the knife on the floor of the kitchen as soon as she’d gotten her hand around him. 

“Jug,” Betty nudged his head with her free hand, “just take a nap. I can undo the other one.” 

Jughead shook his head, still yawning which made her smile and yawn as he finally got it. The wrap fell away. 

“Is it reusable?” She asked.

“Well not these ones.” 

She had no idea if it was because of the brand or they activities they'd done while wearing them. Once her non-dominant hand was free she stretched her fingers, looking at the indents in the flesh. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a flash of nudity, her head whipped around but Jughead was already under the sheets. 

“No fair!” She said with a laugh nudging Jughead’s shoulder as he shook his head. 

“Listen, you’ll have all day to appreciate my naked body but I don’t know how you have any energy at all right now, come here,” Jughead lifted the blanket enough for her to slide underneath it. She didn’t know who made his pants, but their waistbands should be applauded for their resilience and ability to defeat gravity. 

“So you’re one of those guys,” Betty snapped off her bra and flung it in the direction of his closed door, it snagged on the doorknob just as she intended it to. His body was already warming up the space between the cool sheets, she tried to get as close to him as possible, even as he tugged up one of his millions of comforters to protect against the AC set to high. 

“What guys?” Jughead asked, settling his head on his pillow, tufts of black hair spilling against the generic manly print. 

“The kind of guy who falls asleep right afterwards,” Betty craned her neck upwards, and pressed a kiss to his chin. The look on his face could only be described as offended. 

“Um, excuse me, I did not fall asleep right afterwards, if anything you were the one who almost fell asleep in the hall–” 

“Blacking out and falling asleep are not the same thing Juggie.” Still sensitive from her orgasm, she should’ve known better than to try and ride the wrap on his hand while he said some truly nasty things to her. She definitely wasn’t hating the wrap. 

“Okay, well, we worked out a lot, we barely slept last night, and what little sleep we did get was punctuated with loud moans so, I think we earned a nap.” Jughead sounded smug when he said it. Which Betty tried to meet with a reassuring look, but she couldn’t shake the grin on her face. She definitely wasn’t _trying_ to challenge him.

Except maybe she was. 

And from the look on his face, it was definitely working. 

“Alright, you’re asking for it then.”

Jughead shifted them, pulling the blankets up as she laughed.

__________

The call came when his head was laying on her chest, listening to her heart beat. He opened an eye and squinted at the phone, before reaching out for it and snagging the corner with his fingernail, dragging it across the dresser to better grab it with his whole hand. 

“Hello?” He asked by way of greeting. 

“It’s 2PM, do you know where your partner is?” A snide voice asked. 

Jughead was excited for the swift and impending doom that was coming towards Adams. 

“I left him at Ronnie’s last night,” Jughead shifted slightly, so Betty’s skin wouldn’t pull on his cheek and slur his words. The thought crossed his mind of sneaking out into the living room, naked as he was, leaving so Betty could sleep. He looked up and realized Betty was awake, studying him. 

“You left fairly early this morning,” Adams said, clearly prodding for more information. 

“Yeah, well, early bird gets the worm.” Jughead smoothed his hand down Betty’s thigh, trying to reassure her. She seemed to be studying the phone with a tense fury, as if she was moments away from snapping it out of his hands and yelling at Adams herself. 

“Did you get the worm then?” Adams snickered as he asked, and Jughead rolled his eyes and mouthed _tool_ to Betty. There was a flash of the smile he loved so much. 

“A gentleman never tells. What can I do you for Adams?” Jughead clicked the phone on speaker and set it on Betty’s smooth stomach, next to a hickey he’d left her at some point. Her hands went to their default spot, his scalp to massage his head. As if to reassure him. 

“You’ve crossed into the inner sanctum of the Lodge household. We’ve been watching those girls for months and they never let men in.” Adams sounded distracted, Jughead could hear shuffling papers in the background. “I want an update.” 

Jughead caught his tongue between his teeth as he looked up at Betty. She was no longer looking down at him, instead, she kept her eyes fixed on a distant corner of her room. “I didn’t know that. But yeah, let’s do an update. We have some stuff to tell you.”

“Good I hope.” 

“Yeah,” Jughead slid his hand up behind Betty’s thigh, where her leg met her backside, the tips of his fingers questing, “great even.”

“I’ll text you the details. Tonight at 8.” 

“Oh, uh,” Jughead played up the frown for Betty, who was now glaring at him as his fingers searched, “I’ve got a date.” 

“Break it Jones. I’ll see you there.” 

The line went dead, and Jughead took his phone off of Betty’s stomach, her hands slid down his face to cup his cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry, but I think I have to cancel our dinner plans tonight. Something came up at work.” Jughead said with an affected sigh.

“Well I guess you gotta make it up to me.”

___________

“Where’s your hat?” Toni asked as she sank into the couch, one long heeled leg crossing over other. 

“Er,” Jughead ran his hands through his hair, “here’s the game plan, Archie and I go in, we get drinks with the slimy bastard. Who I was right about, and then we leave. At which point he’ll exit the establishment. He’ll either go right or left. Then we trail him.” 

“And then we kill him,” Sweet Pea helpfully finished. 

“Not until we find out who he’s working for first!” Fangs reminded Sweet Pea, nudging his shoulder. 

“Are we just not going to talk about the missing beanie?” Toni asked, holding out her hands. 

“Question–” Cheryl started. 

“Absolutely no arrows at this point, but you will be shooting someone within the next 48 hours I promise.” Jughead pulled up the diagram of the bar he’d chosen specifically for its lack of alleyways and it’s notoriously huge space, which made it easy to see marks in. “No coats either.” 

“Jug why was your beanie on top of the refrigerator?” Archie stepped into the living room with the beanie in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. Jughead quickly took it and put it on his head as he saw Toni tilt her head out of the corner of his eye. “There was also a knife on the floor, I put it in the sink.” 

“I got hungry earlier, you know how I’m like a hurricane sometimes. Are we all up on the plan?” 

“What if he takes the back door?” Fangs asked. Tapping the diagram. 

“Shit,” Jughead studied the diagram and thought about it. Normally the most junior team member would be the lookout, which meant Archie, and Adams was expecting Archie to be at the bar. He couldn’t split up any of the teams to trail Adams, even though any one of them were more than capable of taking Adams’ on. Adams had already managed to get a little too much past the Serpents already. 

“We could call someone down, it only takes a few hours for people to drive down from Riverdale,” Toni, his second in command, helpfully offered. She already knew the route his mind took, and was offering up the next steps in the suggestion process. 

“No, we’d be late and we can’t stall by that much.” Jughead tapped his chin, thinking about it. 

“What if Betty–” Archie started, and Jughead held up a hand. 

“No, definitely not.” Jughead said, a little too quickly. He could admit that the thought made his gut clench. Hell his knees were still weak from the goodbye kiss she’d given him on her way out the door. 

“Wait, Archie might have a point here. Betty is a legacy and she is well trained. And you might have definitely spent all afternoon making what I assume was incredibly angry sex all over the apartment–” Cheryl started. 

“It was probably just more wild animal sex,” Sweet Pea interjected. Jughead rolled his eyes towards the heavens and wondered if FP had to deal with this when he was running his first missions. 

“Nevermind the sex, obviously your feelings are compromised but she can definitely stand on a fire escape and talk into a microphone.” Cheryl curled her arm around Toni, as if to point out that she herself worked with her love everyday. 

“Cheryl, I’m glad you think so highly of me as a leader, but the fact of the matter is Betty is not an initiate. We can take her into the pit and show her around but my Dad made it very clear that she wasn’t to be doing anything beyond intel on this mission.” Jughead had thought of the argument before they’d even come over. Just in case. There was always a risk that something would come up on these missions. 

“It is a kind of gathering intel,” Toni pointed out, “I mean, I’m sure that the nerdy sex where you just talked about crime fiction all day was more strenuous than standing on a fire escape.” 

“You guys, Jughead clearly really likes her.” Archie looked around, and then pointed to the gym, “and it smells like sex in the gym so it was definitely sparring sex.”

There was only so much flagrant disobedience he could take, and Cheryl and Toni both had good points. Besides he didn’t have enough time to do a gauntlet then and there. 

“We need to be talking about who should be looking over the back exit, who did it last time?” 

“Wait!” Fangs stood up, they all looked at him, just as Jughead remembered that Joaquin was on the last big job Jughead had taken on. And Fangs hadn’t been. “I bet it was both sparring and then tender lovemaking, after all they’ve been putting it off for a few days.” 

Jughead rolled his eyes, glancing up towards the ceiling as he felt the eyes of his entire team resting on him. Toni leaned forward on her couch, arching a brow. 

Jughead wanted to point out that a gentleman never tells, but since when is he a gentleman. 

“As per usual, you’re all wrong. Suit up.”

____________

“Check,” Jughead said as he and Archie strode across the street. 

“Check,” Archie shot back, the sound reverberating in the air and in Jughead’s earpiece. 

“Check,” came Toni’s voice, from down the street, followed by Cheryl’s with a chirpy, “Check!” 

Down the other side of the street came a “Check,” from Sweet Pea, mumbled through whatever food he’d managed to find from a street vendor, and a “Check” from Fangs that sounded half like laughter. 

Jughead’s throat closed up as he waited. 

“Betty, you have to say check last, you’re the the last person on the roster,” Toni gently reminded Betty. 

“Oh right! Check.” 

Relief flooded Jughead’s system, and he followed the hostess to the table where Agent Adams already sat. His head slightly tilted, waiting for his impending death.

_______________

“Does the name Papa Poutine mean anything to you?” Jughead asked from the archway of Veronica’s spacious apartment. She nodded, standing just inside her place in a flowing robe and a nightgown that Archie was having a hard time talking around. Betty had gone to her side. Already prepared to protect Veronica from anything, even emotional damage. 

“Well, that’s who Adams was sent by. He’s up in Montreal and we already got a team working against him, so you’re going to get a free pass on that one.” He held up the drive he’d taken out of Adams’ minimal apartment, the only item worth taking. “Archie is going to sit with you and go over all this information with you. This is everything Adams had on you. We don’t know what Poutine might have on you but we’ll find out soon enough. Have your capos on guard just in case.” 

He nodded towards Betty, what he thought of as his _FP Face_ slipping away as he took in what she wore to be a lookout. Dark jeans, a dark forest green sweater, and a dark beanie that rivaled his. She even wore leather gloves. 

The All American Girl always dressed the part. 

“Is Adams –” 

“We’re all squared away, sorry that he sent us after you with bad intel. It’ll never happen again.” 

Adams was already sinking to the bottom of the ocean, dragged out by the turbulent East River. Fangs and Sweet Pea made it look like robbery as an excuse to steal all his tech. They’d bring it up to the Montreal team after the next phase in the plans. 

“Unfortunately, Archie is going to have to come with me for now, and he’s going to have to sit with you tomorrow,” Jughead tilted his head towards the door, and Archie nodded solemnly. Normally they wouldn’t have come by, but Jughead wanted to make sure Betty made it back in one piece after her very brief stint as a full time Serpent. 

“Are you guys going to be safe?” Veronica asked. Jughead locked eyes with Archie, his protege and bestie, and offered up a shrug to Veronica. 

“Don’t worry about us Ronnie, it’s not our first rodeo.

_____________________

The couch was too small for the six of them. Jughead refused to join them, instead he leaned his body against the frame of the entranceway and watched as Cheryl and Sweet Pea fought over the remote. New bruises had joined the ones that Betty gave him a few days before. Frankly, he was ready to sleep for a few days, but Archie had woken him up for this particular serpent ritual. 

“We’re watching _mine_ first!” Cheryl said, snapping the remote out of his hands and clicking the TV over to a channel that played upstate news. 

“ _–A man who was known for his dedication to charity was found dead today, shot through the heart with an arrow. The Police thought it was a hunting accident until they discovered in the basement_ –” 

“I’ve got Seniority here!” Sweet Pea took the remote back, and clicked buttons, “We’re watching mine!” 

“ _–A trafficking ring that the police had been trying to break apart for months met it’s swift and bloody end last night, as a pair of unknown assailants_ –”

Archie waited until Sweet Pea held the remote out of Cheryl’s reach, to snatch it from him and change the channel. 

“ _–A Manhattan business man was found dead, in a jail cell, with incriminating evidence around his neck to –_ ”

“Alright that’s enough.” Jughead slapped off the TV, and faced his crew. His _court_ as Cheryl had called them. 

He tried to think of a rousing speech, but his excellence was in research, and execution of both jobs and people. Not in speech giving. He had a tendency towards monologuing that his crew frequently liked to tease him for. 

“FP gave us three weeks to do this gig, and we did it in four days. Just another clear reminder that you guys are the best of the best. Now I know that being in near proximity with each other has been driving you all wild, so go do whatever it is you do in between gigs.” 

Four of the five of them stood up, and filtered out, giving him goodbyes. Toni patted him on the shoulder, and said, “get better at that part.” 

“Thanks Toni, have fun in Montreal.” 

The door closed behind her with a click. 

“Well that was fun.” Jughead said, looking at Archie. “You ready to go get paid?” 

Archie smiled and nodded.

_______

“You look like the rack at Lacys after the President’s day sale, who hurt you?” Veronica said, reaching up to touch the edge of Archie’s cheek. 

“Excuse me ma’am we’re here for a transaction first and foremost.” Jughead said with a smile, trying not to drift too close to Betty. He was still on the clock after all. 

“Right,” Veronica pulled Archie down into a kiss, the kind that would’ve had Jughead moving his food to safety if they were in the Pit’s cafeteria. He leaned around them to share a long suffering look with Betty, who just smiled at him, her hands folded in front of her. 

“Thanks ma’am,” Archie said, when they pulled apart, the two of them began to walk away from the fountain, leaving Jughead and Betty to follow. 

Archie subtly, for Archie anyways, pulled the USB from his mouth and slapped into Jughead’s chest. Jughead winced as he took the still wet device and tucked it into his pocket. The method of transcribing bank account info might’ve been slightly outdated, even with the waterproof USB, but he still wasn’t sure the makeout gambit was needed. 

“Do you think that Veronica just wanted an excuse to be a Moll for a second?” Jughead asked Betty, offering up his arm to her. 

“Oh, most definitely. That’s why she’s wearing her best fishnets.” 

Jughead took a second to glance at Veronica and note that she definitely looked like she stepped out of the 1940s, her arm tucked in Archie’s and her head tilted up to hear whatever confidential secrets he was telling her. 

“Good to know she dresses the part,” he said wryly. He looked at Betty, who looked as she always did, a quiet unassuming All American Girl, “you don’t look like you could kill a guy from twenty paces.” 

“But that’s why you like me,” Betty patted his bicep as they walked. Jughead tried to find a way to deny it but there really was no way possible. 

“I mean, I liked you long before I knew you could do that.” It was the best defense he had, and it made her smile just slightly. 

“Well, I liked you before it became blatantly obvious that you try to subtly brag about your own kills in roundabout ways.” 

Jughead shrugged, “I wasn’t really being subtle Betty, I thought this job was going to be a lot easier than it was.” 

“Did you have fun though?” Betty tilted her head towards him, the late summer sun gleaming in her hair as she smiled gently. 

Jughead thought about his other jobs. Sitting alone on those roofs in Texas, waiting in the plains of Mongolia, chasing down alleyways in San Francisco, any other number of jobs and how he always thought _this is what I have to do_.

And then, standing on the Empire State Building, with Betty leaning back in his arms, smiling up at him. 

“I’ve had the time of my life.” He said, intending for a wry tone but it came out far more earnestly than he meant it to. 

Her smile is one of her teasing ones, as she nudged her arm into his side, “Jug, we’re just getting started.” 

Jughead didn’t know what to say to that. There was a tiny sliver of him –or maybe a chunk of him, if he’s being honest– that thought that this might end, even with all of their whispered sweet nothings and promises to keep each other. 

“So, where do we start?” He nodded towards Archie and Veronica who were walking fast and almost out of sight, “Another double date?” 

“Actually, don’t take this personally, but I really want to put an icepack on your face.” Betty placatingly stroked his arm as she said it, but he was already smiling. He could handle her wanting to pamper him, although he had to complain for good measure. 

“One bodyguard gets a good hit on your face with the butt of a rifle and suddenly–” Jughead couldn’t finish his sentence before Betty shifted his face around to look closer at the bruise along his jaw. 

“What is it with bodyguards and your face? It’s probably because it’s so pretty. Come on, I’m off duty tonight. Let’s go back to your place.” Betty began to tug Jughead out of the park and towards where a cab could take them to his apartment. It wasn’t lost on him that Veronica wasn’t looking back, nor that Betty didn’t seem concerned with Veronica’s safety. 

“Did you two plan this?” Jughead asked, narrowing his eyes towards her, already knowing the answer. 

“Jughead, I don’t know how long before you get whisked away on another job and we’ve got lost time to make up for. Come on, let’s go!” 

With a smile, Jughead followed Betty out of the park and towards his home. 

After all, his work was done, and after every difficult job it was important to take time to just relax. Especially if she had the night off too. It was good to get away from the hustle and bustle of work. 

They had some time to kill.

**Author's Note:**

> I really liked the scene where Archie tells Jughead about his dream of them all living in NYC someday. 
> 
> But I also love Mr. and Mrs. Smith AUs So.... 
> 
> Shout out to SunlitGarden for betaing this and excessively holding my hand while I finished out the second season.


End file.
